Watch Me Burn
by the jingle-jangle morning
Summary: Sakura Haruno is out of her depth. An unbeaten underground fighter, she has caught the unwelcome attention of the Akatsuki. She's also caught the attention of the mysterious Gaara - is she enjoying it a little more than she should? AU, Lemons.
1. Whim

This is my latest project. It's a bit different from anything I've written before in that it's pure filth from start to finish! Rated for language, sex, violence, adult themes etc.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Yeah, Sakura seems to have a bit of an attitude problem...sorry about that. Also, this is the first time I've written anything this citrusy, so don't forget to let me know what you think.

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**Watch Me Burn**

**Whim**.

She was pretty, pink-haired and a demon in the fighting ring. She was also exceedingly late for work. This was extremely unusual for Sakura; who was meticulously organised and ran her own business. Yet she rushed round her apartment on this particular morning, dressing in her usual attire for a day of teaching martial arts to the local community and training for her next professional fight. She was interrupted by her cell phone ringing. Checking the caller ID, she saw it was Sasuke Uchiha. _So_ not welcome. Sakura could think of much better ways to spend her morning than talking to the ex. He was no doubt being chauffeur driven to his private college someway across town, while Sakura worked a fifty hour week to make food and rent.

"Sasuke," she answered angrily. She hoped to convey as much of her annoyance at him and bitterness from their failed relationship as possible into her tone of voice.  
"Say, Sakura," he drawled, mockingly "I heard you're a hotshot in the underground business. Reckon you could score me an in for Saturday's fight? I'd love to take Karin. She's never been to a fight before, can you imagine?"  
Actually, Sakura could imagine there were a lot of things Sasuke's current girlfriend hadn't done before…like an honest day's work.  
"No can do, Sasuke. Sorry," she said firmly. Her heart sank every time he called. Part of her wanted to give into his ridiculous requests, to humour his every whim and take care of him. Even though it had been a few months since they'd broken up, it still hurt inside whenever he called her, or whenever she thought of him with another woman.  
"But Sakura?" he pleaded, as if he hoped it would melt her heart. She hung up on him, annoyed he was wasting her time. That was why she had a rule. No more rich guys. Or at least, she thought wryly, eying the crumbling wallpaper in her apartment, no more spoilt rich guys.

During her lunch break she called her neighbour and close friend Deidara. Deidara was an underground fighter too and he used to help out at Sakura's dojo. Now he went to art school, determined to make a name out of his curious exploding sculptures. While she moaned about Sasuke bothering her, Deidara insisted she barely had a life outside work. She had no choice in the matter, it appeared; he was dragging her out to a bar in the evening and there was nothing she could do to stop him.  
"Besides," Deidara smirked, "You _really_ need to get some,"  
As Sakura cut the call she shook her head in amusement. She ignored his slight jibe about her sex life, figuring she could punch him for it later. She could probably beat Deidara in a fight, now that he spent all of his time studying for school rather than training. Since starting college, Deidara had developed an active social life and it seemed Sakura was going to be dragged into it.

Normally, she didn't do bars. The alcoholic drinks were expensive and full of sugar - an enemy if she was trying to watch her weight for a fight: in a closely matched competition, a couple of pounds could make all the difference. The late nights left her tired and messed with her schedule; and the people who spent their time there annoyed her. Sakura got enough unwanted male attention as it was from Sasuke, she didn't need to encourage it. However the one thing Sakura loved, nearly as much as the adrenaline she felt when knocking someone about in the ring, was to dance. Dancing at bars could be fun; if she had Deidara by her side.

Besides, when was the last time she had done something for herself? It was always work, work, work with an occasional break to complain about Sasuke. Even when she won a fight, she did not allow herself to attend the raucous after-parties that were almost as famous as the ringside bloodshed. No wonder Deidara called her boring. After a day's work and an impulse trip to the beauty salon, Sakura was looking forward to her night out. At the salon she had had a manicure and, surprising herself, a bikini wax. She hadn't waxed since she'd broken up with Sasuke, who had a marked preference for Brazilians. As Sakura winced her way home, she instantly felt sexier. Maybe Deidara was right, she did need a man after all. Sakura dressed in a slinky cocktail dress and stiletto heels, outlining her eyes in kohl. Before Deidara knocked on her door, she took a steadying swig of neat vodka. She wasn't sure if she could do this.

Deidara smirked when he saw Sakura's getup, but not unkindly. With his encouragement, Sakura started enjoying herself. She began playing her part. She rolled her hips when she walked, crossing her ankles to exaggerate her firm ass. She didn't smile, but an alluring glint flashed in her eyes. She carried herself straight; her posture perfected by years of martial arts.  
"You're a knockout. Enjoy yourself," Deidara whispered as the doorman let them in. Sakura caught a glimpse of herself in the swanky mirrored wall as she entered the bar. She looked cool, sophisticated and elegant. She looked like a different person. She looked like she fitted in at the classy bar. She looked like she was too good for Sasuke Uchiha.

Sakura approached the bar and ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. While the bartender mixed her cocktail, Sakura scanned the crowd. Deidara had abandoned her moments after he had entered the room and caught sight of his college friends. She sighed, although it was no less than she expected. Now he had a gang of buddies from art school, of course his younger, workaholic neighbour would play second fiddle. Deidara had changed since he had started college. Obviously, he had work commitments and new friendships but that didn't explain his late nights, his constant tiredness and the bruises snaking up and down his body. He was constantly on edge, he disappeared for days without warning and Sakura had noticed that he now carried a gun. As she watched him socialise, he seemed the same as always but there was a strain to his voice, as if he was hiding a great secret.

She sipped her drink, relishing the taste of ice cold liquor. She flipped her hair away from her face and licked her lips. She was aware of eyes on her; mainly appreciative male eyes, apart from the glares of the occasional jealous girlfriend. This was not something she was used to. Sakura knew she wasn't exactly hideous, but she preferred to focus on her training or work rather than improving her appearance. Normally, she was dressed in exercise clothing: tracksuit pants, shorts and sports bras, with a sweaty face and her hair tied in a sloppy ponytail. Practical and comfortable for a day's training, but not particularly sexy.

She glanced around, looking over her shoulder. If Deidara was otherwise occupied, she might as well see if there were any guys she liked the look of. After all it had been too long. There was a group of guys standing a few feet away from her, unashamedly checking her out. They were dressed in fashionable, expensive clothes, swigging beers straight from the bottle and joking immaturely. Frat boys, Sakura thought disdainfully. They were all 'dudes' and 'bros' and full of big talk yet they were essentially overgrown children with Daddy's plastic. Not her type. She smoothed her skirt over her thighs and turned away, taking another sip of her potent cocktail. She was looking for someone a little less _average_; a little more of a man. She scanned the bar again. Deidara was chatting to his friends: a pale guy in a crop top and a redhead who looked about fifteen years old. Both had the distinct pretentious air of 'artistes', which gave them a false sense of entitlement. She sighed openly. This was what he had abandoned her for? Sakura was tempted to leave. She felt ridiculous in her short dress. She longed to scrub her makeup off and curl up in bed.

Turning round, Sakura felt eyes on her. She was about to tell the frat boys she wasn't interested, when she saw what she had been looking for. He was sitting in a private booth, surrounded by a group of beautiful people yet somehow he was distanced from them. He had a lean, muscular frame; dressed in a well cut grey suit and he had immaculately tousled red hair. The aura he gave off was dangerous, it was exciting, it was _sexy_. There was a tattoo on his forehead; the Japanese kanji for love. The dark circles round his eyes served only to highlight his impressive bone structure but what got Sakura most was his impassive face. Even as she looked his way, he drew his lips into a teasing half-smirk.

He was staring at her openly, as if he liked what he saw. His gaze was so intense she blushed very slightly and looked away. He smirked even harder, like he was amused by the effect he'd had on her. Sakura, however, chastised herself. As an unbeaten fighting champion, she did not make a habit of blushing when a man looked at her. She steeled herself and stared back at him from under her lashes, neither of them breaking eye contact.

If Sakura had a type it was for bad boys. She liked sophistication, maturity, charm and confidence. She liked her guys to be masculine and slightly wild, perhaps with a rebellious, dangerous streak. As a woman who knew what she wanted, she preferred a man who knew what he wanted. The redhead embodied all of these traits she found so desirable. Yet Sakura was wiser now - Sasuke Uchiha had also embodied all of these traits and she wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

She gave the sexy redhead a small, teasing smile before finishing her drink and standing up slowly. She walked across the bar to join Deidara, deliberately allowing her hips to sway. Deidara introduced her to his friends from art school; Sai and Sasori. One seemed to be emotionally stunted, the other a sociopath, so Sakura could see why Deidara got on so well with them. She listened to the music; a mellow slinky number with a prominent bassline was playing which made her long to dance. As they moved to the music, Sakura half-heartedly listened to Deidara's ribbing about her love life. She felt the urge to return the banter - when was the last time Deidara got laid anyway? Instead, she ignored him and danced. Slowly, sensually she swayed her hips and sashayed across the warmly lit floor. She showed herself off a bit. There was a glimmer in her eyes that was normally reserved for a hard-to-beat opponent in the ring. Tonight though, she was on fire. Her hands caressed her soft thighs, working their way up her body, lightly tracing her curves. She flicked her hair and with her hands above her head, spun in a slow circle. Her movements were slow and deliberate but emphasised every aspect of her body. She wasn't trashy or overtly sexual but when Sakura danced people tended to look twice. The redhead was no exception, she noted with a small amount of pleasure. His eyes were on her slim figure as she moved on the dance floor. She glanced at him briefly but turned away modestly when she felt his stare boring into her. Suddenly, her movements became more self-conscious, more reserved. With a perfectly manicured fingernail, she traced the length of her exposed collarbone before fiddling with a strand of her pink hair.

She knew what she wanted. But she was cautious of how much she wanted it. A well-hidden shy streak overcame Sakura as she stole another glance at the redhead. She blushed when she saw he was still looking her way. Sasuke had been her first, her only but even he had not ignited so much desire in her with one glance. A smirk crept over the redhead's face. It seemed to amuse him, watching her reactions to his attention. Sakura blushed harder and turned her back on him. He made no attempts to hide his stare, despite her obvious self-consciousness.

"If you asked the man with the red hair very nicely, I think he might buy you a drink," Deidara leaned towards Sakura. She wasn't surprised that Deidara had noticed her exchange with the sexy redhead, "And screw you senseless," he added under his breath, his voice full of laughter.

To her chagrin Deidara's words resonated with Sakura. While his mocking was uncalled-for, he was right on. She imagined dancing with the redhead, feeling his muscular body pressed against hers as they moved to the music. She imagined the feel of his lips on hers, of his hands roaming her body, removing her dress, slipping her underwear to the side, teasing her…

Sakura flushed as she came to her senses. She needed to stop thinking these suggestive thoughts. More than that, she needed a drink. Ignoring the object of her fantasy's booth lest a blush take over her face, Sakura made her way to the bar. There was a queue but she did not have to wait long.  
"A Long Island Iced Tea, please," she said when the barman turned her way. She got out a note, but before he could take her money he was interrupted.  
"And a dry martini, please," a man's voice behind her said. He held out a twenty which the bartender accepted wordlessly. Sakura turned round to see who had spoken. It was the sexy redhead. Up close, he was even more attractive. No sensible thoughts formed in Sakura's head apart from her desire to fuck him, and the Bond films.

"Shaken, not stirred?" she asked. She raised an eyebrow in what she hoped was an alluring way. If he was taken aback, he did not show it.  
"Does it look like I give a damn?" he replied with a smirk. He was, Sakura decided, markedly sexier than Daniel Craig.  
"Your drinks, Mr. Bond," the barman said, playing along with a grin and placing their cocktails in front of them.  
"Thank you," Sakura said to the redhead, when she finally noticed he had bought her a drink. Without asking, he took the seat next to hers.  
"I thought I'd better introduce myself, seeing as you've been staring all night. Gaara," he said, still smirking.  
"My name is Sakura," she replied. No surnames. Just like she wanted. She held out her hand for him to shake. Surprising her, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. He gently kissed the back of her hand, looking at her from under his red hair. Even when he let her go, Sakura could feel the ghost of his cool lips against her skin. She felt her face grow hot again, the faint pink tinting her cheeks.

Gaara sipped his drink, his eyes never leaving Sakura's. "You know, you're cute when you blush," he said. The mere sound of his voice sent shivers down her spine and at the mention of the word, Sakura blushed deeper, earning a smirk from Gaara.  
"See what I mean. Do I make you nervous?" he asked, teasing.  
"No. No. Absolutely not. No way. I'm not even blushing…it's just, I'm hot… I mean, it's hot in here, isn't it? And I was dancing. That gets you hot…I mean, that…that's…That's why I'm blushing - no, turning red. No…" Sakura trailed off feeling more embarrassed than ever. It didn't exactly help that the air conditioning unit above them was blowing out cool air or that Gaara was laughing at her gently. She'd made a total fool out of herself. The moment a man so much as spoke to her she'd turned into a quivering wreck. A quivering wreck with a big mouth.  
"I'm talking crap, aren't I?" she asked.  
"A little," Gaara replied.  
"Sorry," she said  
"Don't apologise," he said it softly but it was a command.

Sakura sipped her drink. She could taste the potency of her cocktail and emboldened by the alcohol she asked; "Why were you staring at me like that?" She referred to earlier, when she had been subject to his intense gaze from across the bar. Gaara smirked again. He looked her over from head to toe, starting with her feet and following her long, slim legs up her crossed thighs and to her hips. His eyes traced her trim waist and over the roundness of her breasts. His gaze lingered a little on her collar bone, glanced over her lips before focussing again on her eyes. "Like what?" he asked. His words were light, teasing yet loaded with put-on innocence.  
"Like you were undressing me with your eyes," Sakura said. There was a cheeky tone to her voice. A strand of hair fell in front of her face and she brushed it away delicately.  
"Maybe I was," Gaara picked up on her tone and mimicked it.  
"Were you?" Sakura asked. She uncrossed her legs, parting her thighs slightly so that Gaara almost got a tantalising view up her skirt, before crossing them again the other way.  
"Will you leave if I say yes?" He was teasing her. He knew the answer already.

"No," Sakura replied. She longed to make him uncomfortable, to make him squirm, to embarrass him like he had to her. He remained unruffled and cool however, and she couldn't imagine him blushing or nervously stammering. Besides, deep down, she knew she would think less of him if she broke his resolve with her coy teasing.  
"Didn't think so," he said. Something about his cocky confidence and his self-assurance was exceedingly attractive. He looked like a man who knew what he wanted and more importantly, knew how to get it.

"Oh, really?" Sakura asked, "What makes you so sure?" She wasn't one to be won over so easily, though. In response Gaara leant forward from his bar seat. Shifting closer to her, he caressed a hand against her thigh for the briefest of seconds, allowing his touch to shoot desire through Sakura's body before moving his hand to her face. He brushed a strand of hair back from her eyes and stroked her soft cheek with the back of his fingers. He locked a hand through her hair and brought their faces closer together. With his eyes half-closed and his lips slightly parted, Sakura realised he was going in for a kiss. Willingly she leaned the rest of the way forward, lips pursed in a cherry-pink pout. Gaara stopped when their lips were centimetres apart, their noses almost brushing. "This," he whispered, before drawing back slightly.

She was, smiling, well-aware that she had been caught out. She had wanted to kiss him but after that display, she decided he was going to have to work for it.  
"You're kidding me, right?" she asked. She kept her tone light.  
"Not at all. What's a nice place like this doing with a girl like you, anyway?" he asked. A take on that old chestnut. Like she would fall for it. She laughed derisively, a monosyllabic burst of mockery.  
"I think you'll find I'm the nice one. Nicer than you'd think, Gaara," she lowered her voice slightly so it took on a seductive note. He leaned closer to hear her.  
"I don't doubt it," he replied, flirting.  
"You however, are a different story," Sakura continued. She let her pink lips spread into an alluring smile.

"You're very interesting. And beautiful," Gaara told her. She laughed. Sakura was long past the stage where she made allowances for guys who casually called her beautiful. The word was bandied about too much, it was too easy to say, yet from Gaara it sounded sincerer. He leaned towards her again but this time she turned her cheek towards him. Unabashed, he leant towards her ear. He delicately nipped the lobe before whispering "Let's dance. I might even let you get me back."

The pair finished their drinks and stood up from the barstools. Sakura brushed non-existent fluff from the back of her dress and felt triumph when Gaara's eyes followed her hands to her ass. He entwined his fingers with hers and led her to the centre of the dance floor, where the DJ was playing a commercial dance tune. Sakura danced as she had before, moving her hips in time to the beat, losing herself in the music. Gaara was a good dancer, she noted, he had an understanding of rhythm. More than that, he looked hotter than ever. Sakura reached for his hand, which he held gladly. Without warning, he spun her round and leant her back over his arm. Surprised, Sakura let out a giggle. She looked up at Gaara's face as he leant over towards her. Rather than a teasing smirk, she was treated to a glimpse of his dazzling smile. He delicately kissed her neck, along her collarbone and down towards the plunging neckline of her dress. A tingle shot through Sakura's body at the feel of his lips against her bare skin.

In response, she wrapped her hands round his neck and moved her body closer to his. Grinding her hips against his, she began to dirty dance. She could hear Gaara's laughter in her ear, which spurred her on, snaking a bare thigh between his legs. She pressed her chest against his torso where she was met with a wall of muscle hidden by a designer shirt. Gaara placed his hands on her hips and his touch caused her to grind harder against him. Encouraged, he allowed his hands to roam over her ass, pulling their hips closer together. When the song changed, Gaara spun Sakura round so she was facing the same direction he was. With his hands on her thighs, Sakura ground her ass against Gaara, grinning to herself when she felt his reaction to the friction. She turned round and dropped it, enjoying the effects she was having on him.

An hour and several Long Islands later, Sakura could barely contain her desire. Gaara's magnetic good looks, his sardonic personality and the compelling force she had felt between them on the dance floor had served only to ignite her arousal. She longed for frantic, passionate sex with Gaara; the kind she had never had with Sasuke. She longed for his touch, his hands peeling off her dress and delicately caressing her bare skin. She longed to fight for dominance and for him to pin her to the bed and give her what she craved. She longed to flip him over and take control when she was getting close, to feel his hands moving over her body, to kiss him with passion, grace, force.

"Sakura, will you leave with me tonight?" he asked politely, although his smirk told her he didn't expect her to decline. As they left the bar, Sakura realised she didn't think Gaara regularly went home alone. This didn't bother her as she climbed into a taxi while he held the door, deliberately flashing him her ass. After all, they were each using the other.

They didn't kiss until they were on the ring road, heading to Gaara's apartment. Sakura placed a bare leg over one of Gaara's and leaned close to him, breathing in his clean, spicy scent. He rested a hand on her thigh, and brought his lips toward hers. They kissed slowly and chastely at first, letting the anticipation build before Sakura could contain herself no longer. With a soft moan, she lightly bit down on Gaara's lip, tugging it gently with her teeth. Taking that as invitation, Gaara deepened the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip between her lips and dance and twist with Sakura's. While they kissed, occasionally pausing for breath, Sakura delighted at the feeling of Gaara's unrelenting lips against her own. He traced his hand towards her thigh, slowly and deliberately under the hem of her dress. Excited, Sakura shifted her hips towards his hand, so his fingers would touch where she wanted it most. Teasingly, Gaara traced patterns on her inner thigh, gently caressing the supple skin and making Sakura very hot indeed. His movements stopped at her panty line, before he smoothly hooked one finger beneath her silken thong. Sakura moaned in pleasure, but Gaara stopped his movements there. She was sure he could already feel her wetness seeping onto the silky fabric of her underwear. Sakura longed for him to work his fingers inside of her, to stroke her smooth, moist folds. He didn't oblige, preferring to watch her grow wild with anticipation. Sakura whimpered at the denial. Instead, he kissed her neck and grazed gently on her earlobe.

The taxi arrived at their destination shortly and after an uncomfortable lift ride accompanied by one of Gaara's neighbours, where they were barely able to keep their hands off each other the pair eventually reached Gaara's top floor apartment. Gaara unlocked the door with smooth movements and let Sakura in. As soon as he had shut the door, he slammed her against the wall and resumed kissing her. Their lips crashed and connected in a rapid, almost frantic rush, before they broke apart for a moment, breathing heavily. Sakura wrapped an arm round Gaara's neck and buried her fingers in his hair, pulling him close again. Her lips parted when they met with his and as he bit her lower lip in passion, pulling it between his teeth, she allowed him to taste her hot mouth. Tongues fighting for dominance, Sakura ran her hands through Gaara's hair. She lifted one leg, which she wrapped around his body. He put his hand under her leg, pulling her closer.

Sakura hastily unbuttoned his shirt, accidentally ripping it in the process, which neither of them seemed to notice. With Gaara shirtless, she pushed him away from her before shoving him against the wall. Her hands roved over his body, as they kissed, feeling his pecs, his biceps, his tight abs. She could barely contain herself as he deepened the kiss; she moaned against his mouth, aching for more.

She wrapped her legs round his waist and he lifted her up, his hands supporting her ass. Still kissing each other, he carried her across his flat, which had Sakura not been otherwise engaged, she would have noticed had an open plan living area and was tastefully decorated in a classic style. Gaara placed Sakura down on the kitchen counter and made short work of removing her dress. His hands traced her slim waist and admired her breasts in her thin lace bra. Her nipples were poking through, jewel-hard and aching to be touched. He ran his fingers in small circles round them though the lace, earning a moan from Sakura. He reached round and removed her bra, freeing her perky tits. They were high and sensuous, centred by her stiff nipples. Gaara rubbed them between his fingers before gently trailing kisses down her neck and chest. He kissed the soft, creamy skin of her tits before running a tongue around her nipple. He continued to lick and kiss her nipples while Sakura was barely able to contain her joy. Without warning, he bit down on one of her nipples causing Sakura to cry out in pleasure.

Sakura could feel her own juices soaking her underwear as Gaara pulled her close and kissed her again. The feeling of his warm hands on her back and round her waist made Sakura want him even more, if that was possible. She reached for the buckle of his belt, longing to unzip his trousers and pull away his boxers. However, Gaara grabbed her hands and steadied her. He stretched her arms over her head, easily pinning her fragile wrists to the wall behind her with one of his large hands. It wasn't uncomfortable, in fact, Sakura found the sensation of not being in control surprisingly erotic. With his free hand, Gaara removed Sakura's thong and took in her bikini wax with appreciative eyes. She knew it had been worth it.

With a finger Gaara gently traced the outline of Sakura's soft lips. Her breathing hiked in anticipation as he stroked, savoured and teased every inch of her honeyed cleft. Eventually, he began to stroke her clit, slowly at first. Sakura let the sensations take over her body and as the movements of his fingers sped up, she began to feel waves of tantalising pleasure. Gaara eased a finger inside of her and continued his gentle movements. She bucked her hips against his hand and let out a moan, eager for more. He replaced one finger with two and slid them in and out of her with ease. Sakura was getting close. She felt Gaara slide a third finger inside her, the increase in friction stretching her. He continued playing with her clit, rubbing the sensitive nub between finger and thumb until Sakura could no longer contain herself. She felt her release building, and as her breathing picked up, she began to feel the wave of pleasurable sensations crashing round her. With a soft scream she reached her climax, her head thrown back and her lips parted slightly.

As the sensations subsided, he released her hands from behind her head and kissed her deeply. When he broke the kiss, and brought his hands close to her face, she licked and sucked on his fingers, savouring the taste of her own juices. She reached for his belt and fumbled with the buckle, before undoing the zip and pulling down his boxers, to release what lay beneath. Gaara removed the remainder of his garments and Sakura handled his hardened shaft. She paid particular attention to the tip, pulling the layer of skin over the end. He placed his hands on the indention of her trim waist and pulled her closer, while she continued to stroke his erection beneath her cool hands.

"I want you," she said, her voice a breathy whisper.  
Only too happy to oblige, Gaara retrieved a condom from his trouser pocket which he rolled on with ease. He lifted her slightly by her waist and gently pulled her closer to him. She could feel his almost vertical length at her entrance and she moaned in anticipation as he eased himself in. He gave her a moment to adjust to his girth before moving in and out. Sakura moved her hips with his. She pulled him closer so their bodies were pressed against each other, her legs wrapped round his waist.

Without warning, he lifted her from the countertop and carried her out of the kitchen while she kissed his face. They entered what she presumed was his bedroom where he placed her down on a white kingsize bed and resumed what they had started in the kitchen, Sakura pushing his throbbing manhood into her warm sex. She rode him cowgirl-style for a while, pinning his wrists like he had done to her, until he flipped her over onto her back so he could thrust better.

Sakura wrapped her legs round his waist and dug her hands into his back, scratching with her manicured nails. She leant towards him, bucking her hips. She was now unable to keep her moans of pleasure quiet. They were both nearing their climaxes and she was sure she had broken the skin on Gaara's back. They came within seconds of each other: Sakura felt her breathing quicken and she let out an involuntary swearword as all the pleasurable sensations in the world filled her body.

Exhausted, she collapsed against Gaara's chest. Their bodies intertwined, each covered with a sheen of sweat. She breathed out slowly, letting her warm breath hit his skin.  
"I thought you said you were a nice girl," Gaara said, "Nice girls don't fuck like that."  
Sakura grinned, "Yes they fucking do." Gaara kissed her eyelash.

They stayed silent for a few moments, cuddled up together on the white quilt. He put an arm over her and drew her closer to him. Sakura enjoyed the proximity for a while until the alcohol and her post-orgasmic haze wore off and she realised the awkward position she was in. She could stay here and fall asleep, curled up with the sexy Gaara. But in the morning, they would be two naked strangers, both probably hungover. She couldn't fake intimacy. She began to extrapolate herself from Gaara's grasp and gather her things to leave.

"Sakura?" he said, "Won't you stay a while?"  
"This was a mistake. I've got to get going, I've got work tomorrow," she replied as she slipped back into her underwear. Gaara seemed taken aback.  
"Okay," he said, "Are you sure? You're more than welcome to stay,"  
"I'm fine thanks. It's not like we owe each other anything; it was just sex," Sakura said, surprising even herself with her coldness.

And with that she swung her bag over her shoulder and left, strutting out of Gaara's apartment in her stilettos. As soon as she got home, she kicked off her uncomfortable shoes, pulled off her short dress and slipped into a comfy old t-shirt. With her makeup scrubbed off, she climbed into her bed alone. She wasn't Sakura the sex goddess. She was barely Sakura the underground fighter. She was just plain, pink haired Sakura Haruno; a high school dropout cast aside by Sasuke Uchiha. Screwing a hot guy wasn't going to change that.

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Reviews appreciated :)


	2. Fight

Thankyou for your reviews, favs and alerts - it's always good to know people like what I'm doing. Please tell me what you think, even if you hate it. To clarify, this is going to be a chaptered story. I don't know how long it will be exactly, but probably at least 10 chapters...but maybe you'll all be fed up of me by then? Also, this story has a plot as well as just sex, sorry if you just wanted smutty bits!

Sorry for the delay in publishing this chapter. I've just moved into my own flat. It's brilliant: I can have flapjack for breakfast and stay up as late as I want without worrying about disturbing anyone, but I have no internet, no microwave, no TV and no fixed line phone. This means I'll only be able to post chapters when I'm in a Wi-fi zone so expect sporadic updates, sorry!

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**Watch Me Burn**

Fight.

Saturday, the day of the fight, rolled round before Sakura knew it. She had been training hard, despite her hangover after Thursday night with Gaara. Not that she regretted it - it was up there with some of the best sex of her life - it was just that she needed the extra training time. Friday had been a write-off, consisting of bacon sandwiches, hot strong coffee and examining her bruises. Sakura had struggled through teaching her morning classes and napped in the afternoon on her sofa, watching crap reruns on the television set. When she had eventually woken up, she had felt better but had been distracted by memories of her hot night with Gaara. She had had to take a cold shower and had left little time for training.

Saturday, of course was her rest day. She could not afford to be on anything but top form for her fight. One wrong move could result in not only the destruction of her reputation, but potentially hospitalise her. Sakura was justifiably proud of her formidable reputation. She had never lost a fight. No matter who her opponent was, no matter how skilled they were, Sakura did not give in.

With Deidara acting as her coach, Sakura arrived at the arena early. It was an abandoned warehouse, leased by a notorious drug baron, anxious to show off his gangland empire. Sakura didn't care about that. Even though she was making a name for herself professionally, she never forgot her underground roots. She preferred the underground, in a way. The bloodthirsty crowd, the confidentiality, the adrenaline and the fact that she risked her life with every fight. The regulations on the pro circuit meant that the danger was mostly gone. Although Sakura fought a good tactical game, her survival instinct and strength was better suited to the more brutal underground fights.

She placed her bag in the locker room and began to warm up, Deidara encouraging her. Sakura looked at the programme to see who she was fighting today. Her intended competitor, Ino Yamanaka had pulled out the week before due to a broken ankle and a replacement had yet to be found. Sakura was secretly glad, although she would never admit it. She had fought Ino in her first fight and although she had improved dramatically since then, the tenacious blonde girl had come the closest to ever beating her.

Sure enough, by her name there was a blank slot. Angrily, Sakura marched over to the venue manager and confronted him, swearing. After she had been assured she would have an opponent in due course, Sakura left, feeling pissed off. As she stomped back to the locker room she passed Kakashi Hatake, another fighter. Nodding politely, she thought of her game plan. If she didn't know who her competitor was, they had the immediate advantage of surprise. Unless it was someone she had fought before, she would not know their fighting style and could easily be tricked or caught off guard. It was unlikely to be someone she had already fought, Sakura thought wryly: nobody was stupid enough to subject themselves to her onslaught of flying fists again. In which case, Sakura decided her best move was to fight defensively at first: let her competitor attack until she figured out their movements, their strengths and, crucially, their weaknesses. The downside of this plan was if she was pitted against someone who could take her out within the first few moves, forcing her to counter-attack. Lost in thought, she sat in the slowly-filling locker room. She hoped it wouldn't be Hatake. She had learnt from him in her early days, which meant he would know her style better than most. Besides, she didn't want to beat her former sensei to a pulp, it wasn't very courteous.

The first fight was called out and Sakura headed out to watch. As a big name she wasn't until seventh on the list, meaning the crowd would be well and truly warmed up by the time she stepped into the ring. She had never heard of either competitor but she watched with passing interest as they took chunks out of each other. Examining and analysing others' techniques allowed her to better understand her own and to hypothetically counter each blow. The first fight was over soon after it began and a team of medics were summoned to mop up the blood of the loser. That was one aspect of her sport Sakura didn't like; the bloodshed was sometimes gruesome. With all the adrenaline and testosterone fuelling the action, some fighters did not know when to stop.

It wasn't until the fifth fight was called that Sakura found out her opponent. She was distractedly pacing the locker room when Deidara burst in with the news. It turned out he hadn't heard the actual name of the other fighter but had remembered his nickname: the Sand Waterfall. The name rang a bell in the back of Sakura's mind but she could not put a face to it. It was even more frustrating knowing who she was fighting but not knowing anything like enough to formulate a plan of action. She had initially started when she heard that her opponent was male. The boss probably didn't have a girl readily available. There weren't many women who fought underground and there were even fewer who would be willing to take on the Cherry Blossom. Why shouldn't she fight a man? She relished a challenge.

Eventually, she was called up, which put her out of her misery. She did a few final stretches, punched Deidara a few times and wrapped her hands in light bandage up to her forearms. She set her jaw, took several deep breaths and cleared her mind. She wasn't plain, pink-haired Sakura anymore. She became the infamous, deadly Cherry Blossom. Sakura liked the juxtaposition of her flowery nickname and her devastating fighting style.

She bowed her head as she walked out through the dry ice. At the mention of her name, the entire arena exploded into applause. She blinked to clear the smoky ice from her eyes and glanced round. She put her hands above her head to acknowledge the applause, which increased tenfold when she blew a couple of kisses. Deidara was waiting ringside with towels, water and heartfelt words of encouragement. The two bumped fists, and Sakura surveyed her opponent.

He had his back to her but Sakura judged him to be slightly shorter than the average male, but muscular with it. Although he appeared to be the stronger competitor, she could work that to her advantage; his larger body mass would slow him down, giving Sakura the edge when it came to speed. His musculature bothered her, though. He looked well built and tough. She reckoned if he packed a punch, she would feel it. But brute strength was meaningless if he couldn't land a hit. Sakura's best bet was to use her speed to her advantage; dodging and blocking his attacks until he became frustrated and made a badly-judged move. Then, she could strike. She was glad she had worked intensively on her cardiovascular fitness, meaning she could give him the run around for as long as needs be.

Her red-haired competitor was still talking to his coach and medic, with his back to her and his shirt still on. Sakura was growing impatient. She longed to get down to business. While she watched, the guy removed his t-shirt. As she had thought, he was well-built, however what caught Sakura's eye was the state of his back. It was red-raw and severely scratched, as if he had been mauled by an animal. In places the gouges had scabbed over and they looked pretty severe. With a smirk, Sakura wondered if he had spent the night with a kinky woman who had scratched his back to fuck.

Dressed in only his shorts, her adversary clapped his coach on the back before slowly turning round. Sakura took her position to a smattering of cheers, eager to get this thing over with. She surveyed her opponent with a skilled eye, hoping to spot potential weaknesses to use to her advantage. He had pale, smooth skin under which muscles were visible, including a rippling six pack. His biceps bulged and on his upper arm there was a bandage tied tightly, showing the edge of a tattoo. She took in his face; a strong jaw, a firmly set mouth. Green eyes surrounded by dark circles and a kanji tattoo half-hidden by his tousled red hair. She did not need to look twice to know it read love.

Even as she watched him, his eyes took on a teasing glint and a familiar smirk curled back over his teeth. It was almost as if he was mocking her with his very presence.

Gaara, the man she had bedded not two days previously, was her competitor. Although she could definitely account for his sexual prowess, she knew nothing of his fighting style. Furthermore, she realised she herself was the sole cause of the scratches up his back. She distinctly remembered digging her nails in as she neared her climax.

Now however, she was livid. How dare he? Her set face instantly became a glare that would have made lesser men flinch. If possible, Gaara smirked harder.

The ref rung the bell, signalling the start of the match. Sakura lurched forward, her tactical game plan forgotten. Goaded by the roars of the noisy crowd, she charged at Gaara. She was going to bust some serious ass.

She'd won. She was still the unbeaten Cherry Blossom, the formidable pink-haired fury. For some reason, that didn't cheer her up. The referee announced her the victor and the bloodthirsty crowd in the warehouse burst into applause. Underground fighting's sweetheart, Sakura Haruno, was still on top form. Dutifully, she raised her arms to acknowledge the applause. The praise felt totally hollow. She felt nauseous and empty; she knew she didn't deserve this honour.

He'd _let_ her win. He hadn't fought using his whole strength. And suddenly, Sakura was pissed. _Really_ pissed. She left the arena as quickly as possible and once she was in the relative safety of the locker room, she screamed. She let her anger and frustration out in that scream, before punching a metal locker. It hurt, and her knuckle was grazed and bleeding but Sakura didn't care.

She hated Gaara. She _hated_ him. How dare he? He had no right to interfere in her life like that. She had made her position perfectly clear after the night they'd spent together. It had been nice, but that was it. What the fuck was his problem? What the hell was he playing at? He hadn't put much effort into the fight which Sakura found personally insulting. Was he trying not to hurt her because she was a woman? Sakura had been knocked about a few times in the ring and while a broken bone really hurt and took several weeks out of her training schedule, it was nothing that wouldn't heal eventually. Not like heartache, she thought bitterly as Sasuke's face appeared in her mind. Suddenly, her foul temper increased and she was pissed off with both Gaara and Sasuke.

She needed a drink. The arena had begun to empty after the last fight and the after-party was just getting started. Sakura ordered a double vodka from the open bar and swallowed it in one gulp. People gathered around her to congratulate her on yet another victory, but soon dispersed when they saw the expression on her face. Deidara came over with the hood of his jacket pulled over his head. He teased her briefly about her surprising opponent. Sakura glared, tempted to hit him.

Deidara's face contorted into a slight frown and he shook his head, which stopped Sakura causing a scene.

"The guy with the blue skin - is he still here?" Deidara asked quietly. Initially thinking he was trying to be funny, Sakura scanned the crowd until she saw who he meant. Deidara had his back to the guy and it didn't look like he had seen them. Sakura nodded once. Deidara frowned, pulling his hood closer over his face.

"I gotta go. Don't talk to him or his mate, whatever you do," Deidara said in a low voice and with that, he moved quickly to the exit and disappeared into the night.

Now what? Sakura thought. Deidara clearly didn't like the blue-skinned man and it even seemed like he was scared of him. That was weird, her art student friend was scared of no-one. She helped herself to a handful of snacks and politely chatted to a rich, but notoriously unscrupulous businessman. Sakura had to be gracious: if a businessperson was particularly impressed they might sponsor the dojo. She was barely listening tonight, however. Her mind was on other things.

Across the room, she saw the man with the blue skin again. He was tall; closer to seven foot than six and he was wearing a long black coat. Next to him and dressed in a similar style was a smaller, leaner man with long dark hair. They seemed to be deep in conversation. Sakura was too far away to overhear, or even see their faces properly. She made her excuses to the businessman and approached the bar, carefully bypassing the mysterious pair. The blue man bore more than a passing resemblance to a shark, she noted, while there was something familiar about his companion. Sakura queued at the bar. She wondered who they were and why Deidara had been so anxious to leave once he had seen them.

When she turned back round, she noticed the mysterious pair were talking to Gaara. Although their words were hushed, she could tell they were arguing. She didn't dare get any closer to hear what they were saying, though curiosity burned at the back of her throat. Then, with a contemptuous glare at the other men, Gaara turned and left them. As he passed Sakura she could feel a cold aura emanating from him.

"Congratulations," he spat bitterly. Under any normal circumstances, Sakura would have punched him but Gaara's malevolence made her stop herself. Minutes later and still fuming, she decided to leave. As she reached the door, the man with the blue skin stepped in her path. Remembering Deidara's warning not to talk to him, she tried to sidestep him. He moved in front of her, a hand barring her exit.

"Excuse me," she said icily, meeting the man's eyes with a cold stare. All her anger and frustration was coming to a head and if this stupid shark wasn't careful, he was going to get his ass kicked. The man met her stare and did not move.

"Where is he?" he asked calmly. Beneath his measured tone of voice, Sakura heard the trace of a threat.

"Who?" she snapped. He still hadn't moved.

"Deidara," the man replied impatiently. Sakura glared at him in a guise of confusion.

"I don't know what you're talking about. You're in my way. _Move_," she said fiercely, her eyes flashing with anger. The man looked her over scornfully. He opened his mouth to reply but his previously silent companion spoke instead.

"Kisame," he cautioned. The blue skinned man treated her to an unpleasant sneer before letting her past. His companion with the dark hair was fixing her with a disinterested, emotionless glance. Feeling their eyes on her back as she left the room, Sakura shivered slightly.

She waited until she reached her car and had the doors shut and locked before almost exploding with anger. She was tempted to call Deidara to establish what was going on here but something stopped her. This was out of her depths. She drove home at the speed limit, stopping by the dojo on her way past. Everything was in order, she noted with satisfaction.

In the office, Sakura sat back in her executive chair. She surveyed the empty desk opposite hers - it was the same as it always had been. Messy. She crossed the room to take a closer look. There was a half-completed training schedule, abandoned under a pack of boiled sweets. Letters from earnest fans, who were motivated by his motto of never giving up. Sakura read a couple. She, too, was inspired by his dedication and self-belief. She looked at the wall, where certificates and trophies hung in their dozens. In the centre there was a large framed photograph. It depicted Sakura throwing up a peace sign and holding one handle of a large trophy. A tan blond man with a cheeky grin stood next to her, his arm casually draped round her shoulders. He was holding the other handle of the cup. She remembered that day as clearly as yesterday. That had been their first pro fight. Two nobodies, straight from the underground scene had wiped the floor with all the competition.

Three days later, Naruto had disappeared.

Sakura pulled into the car park of her apartment building. Deidara's motorbike wasn't parked in its usual spot so she guessed he was lying low for a while. Sakura headed up the stairs and let herself in. There was mail on her doormat which she kicked aside. Bills, likely. Nobody ever wrote to her. Her best friend Naruto had disappeared off the face of the earth and her ex-boyfriend Sasuke preferred to phone to taunt her with the sound of his voice. Sakura picked up the stack of envelopes and sorted through: two bills, some junk mail and a business card.

She turned the card over in her hands. It was matte black and decorated with a tasteful red cloud on one side; on the other was a name and contact number. Itachi Uchiha.

Why was the brother her ex hated contacting her? She'd never met him and she hadn't expected him to know her address. In fact, she only knew of him from Sasuke's ongoing desire to kill him. That didn't exactly explain what his card was doing in her mail. Perhaps he had seen her fight and decided to contact her because of that. She certainly wasn't going to go after another Uchiha, even though she could barely think of a better way to get even with Sasuke.

Sakura thought little of the business card. She had more pressing things to worry about; like how Gaara was such an asshole, and how Sasuke was just a jerk and how Naruto could be dead for all she knew. Her unbeaten reputation was still intact but Sakura realised, as she slipped into an uneasy sleep, that there was more to life than a reputation.

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Review! Review! Review! Review! Go on... :)

There will be more Gaara soon.


	3. Offer

**Hello and sorry for the massive delay in this update. Since term started I've been very busy studying and working; so I've not had much time for writing. I've got the internet at home now, so I don't have to drag my laptop on the bus or into wi-fi zones in coffee shops - so there's no excuse for not updating more regularly...I'm working on it. Anyway, enough updates about my crappy life, on with the story. :) Thank you once again to my reviewers, it means a lot!**

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**Watch Me Burn**

**Chapter 3: Offer**

It was getting dark outside. The summer air was balmy and sticky; the city was filled with its cloying heat. It had rained earlier and there was still a touch of damp in the atmosphere. There was no breeze. The sounds of trucks on the highway and emergency sirens in the city centre could be heard. Earlier, there had been gunshots. Now it was quiet.

The dojo was empty, save for one; a slight girl in her late teens, panting and drenched in sweat. She, Sakura, counted through her laboured breaths as she struck the punch bag again and again. She gave herself mental instructions and challenges, thinking each move through: Jab-cross, turn through ninety degrees to deliver a kick. The empty hall echoed with the sound of the impact. Repeat until exhaustion.

Her mobile phone rang, interrupting her flow. She retrieved it from the floor and checked the caller ID. The only people likely to ring her were people who would piss her off: Sasuke, for instance. It wasn't him for once but it was almost as bad: Gaara.

"What?" she snapped into the receiver.

"Watch out for strangers," he said cryptically, "Don't give them anything they could use against you." He sounded agitated, breathless.

"What are you talking about?" her words bristled with anger. He hung up on her. Sakura swore to herself. Gaara was really trying her patience. How had he got her number? What did he mean by that? It had sounded as if he was running while talking on the phone. She didn't understand anything about him, which infuriated her no end.

She allowed herself a breather to calm down in which she wiped the sweat from her glistening forehead and sipped water from a bottle. Five minutes later she returned to pummelling the punch bag, smacking it as if it were her worst enemy. Every-time she made contact with the punch bag, she thought back to the last few days, the longest few days of her life. First there had been Gaara: meeting him at the bar, he had seemed like the answer to all her sexual frustration. She knew almost nothing about him apart from what he looked like naked. When he had turned up at the fight, Sakura had been shocked, humiliated and irritated. Now, it seemed he had brought her nothing but trouble. Sasuke was pissing her off the same as usual, and the business card from his brother had bothered her. Then Deidara had been acting even more strangely than normal. This would normally be quite difficult to achieve, because even by Sakura's standards he was a real weirdo. He had barely returned to his apartment since Saturday's fight and he wasn't answering his phone. Her quick mind analysed the situations and she began to suspect something bigger was going on. Lost in thought, she slacked off on her training and barely noticed the door opening and closing.

"Sakura Haruno?" a man's voice called across the room.

"Who's asking?" Sakura replied warily. She turned slowly to face the newcomer, hoping for a hint of recognition.

There were two of them, and though she recognised them on sight, they were both unfamiliar. They were Deidara's acquaintances from the fight on Saturday: the tall, blue-skinned man and his companion, the smaller man; slim with long dark hair. They seemed friendly enough; both assuming non-threatening professional postures. Whoever these people were however, Sakura's instinct was to tread carefully. From what she knew of Deidara's acquaintances, they were likely to be dangerous or stupid.

"My name is Itachi Uchiha," the smaller man said, "This is Kisame Hoshigaki. We have some things we wish to discuss with you."

Itachi Uchiha? What was _he_ doing in her dojo? She surveyed him carefully. He did, in fact look like his brother. The same good looks, the same expression of entitlement and yet the elder Uchiha seemed politer, gentler but altogether more ruthless. He seemed old before his time - although Sakura calculated he could only be in his early twenties; it seemed he had seen enough horrors to last him a lifetime.

"Very well. Go ahead," Sakura said politely. She did not allow any hint of recognition to show on her face and she hid her reluctance to welcome them with anything but impeccable manners. She would stay one step ahead of this game; hide her body language, give away no more information than necessary and try to figure him out.

It was then she looked down and appraised her outfit. She was dressed in a sports bra and a pair of tight shorts, her hands and feet wrapped in protective bandages. While suitable for martial arts training, it was hardly appropriate for discussions with Uchiha people.

"Perhaps, ah….perhaps after you have refreshed yourself from your training," Uchiha said politely.

She showed the pair into the office, thankful that she had cleaned it recently. She offered them hot beverages and newspapers, both of which they declined, before leaving for the women's changing room.

In the shower, she wondered what they could possibly want to discuss with her. She had no wish to know the details of Uchiha dealings, though she was sure most of them were highly dubious in nature and involved the not-so-admirable professions of violence, intimidation, money-laundering and major fraud. After drying her hair quickly and changing into her street clothes, Sakura returned to her guests in her office.

"This is a nice dojo, Haruno-san," Uchiha said politely. Sakura gritted her teeth at his blank expression. He seemed unreadable, just like his brother.

"Thank you Uchiha-san. It is one of the best in the city," she replied. It was true; the wall behind her desk was decorated with dozens of awards and trophies.

"Do you run it by yourself?" Uchiha asked. Sakura was getting fed up of the small talk. She was sure the pair had not come just to compliment her on her dojo.

"No, I work with my friend Naruto," she replied politely, although her heart panged when she said it. Was that too much to give away? She saw Uchiha had inclined his head very slightly at this comment; perhaps it had come as a surprise to him.

"How interesting," said Uchiha, "I understand you and my dear brother Sasuke have not had much contact recently, Haruno-san?"

"On the contrary, Uchiha-san, we spoke just the other day" Sakura replied coldly. She omitted the part where she had hung up on him, swearing. Uchiha nodded gravely - he was just saying that to get a rise out of Sakura, to expose her vulnerabilities. She ignored the taunt, keeping her icy façade. She knew how his type worked.

"We have been asked to contact you as we believe you show great potential. We have all read about your dojo in the papers. Some of our associates were in the crowd at your recent fights and they were very impressed with your achievement," Uchiha said. He was speaking in a polite, overly formal tone. Sakura remembered her latest fights. There had been an easy win; knockout in two minutes flat. Then there had been the Gaara embarrassment where she had seen this gruesome twosome.

"We want you to join us, Haruno-san," Uchiha said.

"J-join you?" Sakura gasped. She inwardly cursed herself for letting a stutter slip into her speech. First sign of weakness she had shown, "Why? Who are you, exactly?"

They were representing some form of organisation, Sakura deduced. A yakuza, perhaps? Or maybe an unscrupulous company. She set her jaw and fixed the two men with a disdainful gaze. She didn't do business with criminals and lowlifes.

"Organisation is perhaps the best word…although it is hard to define in layman's terms. The Akatsuki is so much more than an organisation. It is the biggest investor in Japan, it has global influence, billions of Yen at its disposal, and a fearsome international reputation. Its members are the elite specialists in their field. We only take the very best," Uchiha continued.

"Why do you want me to join you?" Sakura repeated. From the slight twitch in Itachi's mouth, she could tell he had been expecting her to react to the name Akatsuki. She knew people normally bent over backwards as soon as that name was thrown into conversation. Fear addled rational thought. Sakura however, suppressed the initial fear she felt when hearing the name of the country's most notorious gang. She didn't change her stony expression - instinct was telling her to tread carefully.

"Because you're the shit," the other man, Kisame, spoke for the first time, "That's why." She closely analysed their relationship. Fish-face was obviously the brawn of the outfit, while Uchiha made up the brainpower. A classic partnership, but not without its flaws.

"You've won all those fights. I read somewhere you've never lost. That's an impressive record for a high school dropout, especially when you consider who you've been up against. Guys at the top of their game, pros even, have been beaten by a 110 pound girl. It sounds impossible, but you did it. How?" Uchiha asked. His façade of politeness had been replaced by a keen, interested half-smile. He knew how to work people.

"I train a lot harder than anyone I know. If you want to be the best, you have to work for it," Sakura replied, keeping her distance, "I never give up and I never take second best. There's no easy way; no shortcuts."

"That is the kind of philosophy we adopt within Akatsuki," he replied simply. He allowed an attempt at a genuine smile to spread over his face. He was good, she'd give him that. But Sakura could match him.

"Oh yes?" she asked. She feigned interest, allowing a spark to return to her blank eyes. She gauged Uchiha's reaction; the merest hint of triumph flashed across his face while he considered his words.

"The Akatsuki could offer you many things, Sakura," he said in a smooth, seductive voice, "Protection, income, opportunities….a purpose. The chance to shine…" Like that would work. Sakura found it personally insulting that he was resorting to flirtatious techniques. She guessed it ran in the family; the Uchihas were confident in their own attractiveness and power over women to the point of being cocky. And since when had she been on first name terms with him?

"Not interested, _Uchiha-san_," Sakura replied coldly. Her brush-off was simple and classy. If Itachi Uchiha was good at manipulating people, Sakura Haruno was better. She kept her facial expression blank.

He nodded his head slightly and she knew she had won. For now.

"Very well," Uchiha replied but his tone let her know that this was not over.

He bowed his head respectfully, before standing to leave. His companion followed him, leaving the dojo quiet again. Sakura shook her head. So that's what the elder Uchiha was up to, representing an international criminal gang. What did that entail, exactly? Who knew what he was doing but it was probably highly illegal. Not something she would involve herself in. She hoped Sasuke wouldn't stoop to that level.

Sakura shrugged and packed up her belongings. She tied her pink hair, now dry, back from her face with a hairband and left the dark office. In the dojo, she straightened all the equipment and cleaned everything until it was spotless. She even swept and mopped the floor, wanting to rid the place of all traces of the Akatsuki's recent presence. As she locked up and crossed the parking lot to her car, she did not notice the figure watching her from the shadows.

Sakura drove home at the speed limit, stopping by the late night convenience store on the way to pick up some dinner. She selected some ramen noodles and made her way to the cash desk. Her recent brush with Akatsuki's associates meant she wasn't focussing on her shopping and barely noticed a red-headed guy until she bumped into him. It was Gaara. Sakura became angry. She was about to demand an explanation for his cryptic telephone call, but he did not even glance her way. She knew he had all the manners and charming disposition of a starving tiger, but it still came as a shock.

As soon as she was home she checked all the windows of her apartment were shut and locked. As soon as she was satisfied everything was secure, she deadlocked the door. She laughed to herself a little after doing that. Knowing what little she did of Gaara and Akatsuki, she doubted a locked door would stop them. However, it did give her a small amount of peace of mind.

Sakura put a half-full pan of water on the stove to boil, ready for her evening meal of ramen noodles. She looked out the small kitchen window. Towards the east, almost a mile away, she noticed a strange orange glow as if something was burning. She stared for a few minutes, unsure if it was a fire or not, until she heard the hissing of boiling water behind her. She poured the dried noodles and the seasoning into the pan and waited for her dinner to cook.

Meanwhile, she turned on her laptop and let it load. When it had started, she opened her internet browser and typed in the address of a search engine. She searched for Akatsuki and clicked on the first link which came up. It was an official looking website, posing as a legitimate financial and protection organisation. With interest, Sakura read through the webpage's information, before clicking on a link entitled 'Sensitive Material', which stated in well hidden language some very threatening messages. This was all she needed. Sakura clicked back on her browser and selected the next link about the Akatsuki - a news article about the killing of several prominent businessmen. Apparently, their families had been killed before their very eyes and then the businessmen had been left to bleed to death. Akatsuki involvement was suspected. She read a few more news articles: blackmail, torture, kidnapping, bombing, destruction and profits reaching billions of Yen. Feeling sick to her stomach, Sakura closed the website before shutting her laptop.

She half-ran across her apartment, wanting to be as far away from the offensive material as possible. Her ramen was cooked, but suddenly she wasn't hungry despite her gruelling workout.

She glanced out the kitchen window again. There was definitely a fire: she could see the bright flames downtown growing out of control. She heard sirens as emergency vehicles rushed towards the scene. She wasn't quite sure where it was and her initial panicked thoughts had been for the dojo. What if Akatsuki had tried to burn it down. But no, she was being irrational - the dojo was further north than the fire. Besides, all she had done was refused to join them, she had given the Akatsuki no reason to attack her.

Sakura paced her fifteen foot apartment, her brow furrowed. Her noodles lay untouched, still in their pan on the counter and as she passed them, she could occasionally smell them. The scent that was normally pleasing to her was making her feel sick so she roughly tipped her uneaten dinner into the trash before chucking the pan in the sink. She looked out the kitchen window again. The fire was still raging on across town, despite the efforts of the fire brigade. It was huge, she reckoned it was probably enough to destroy a building. She heard sirens again as more fire engines were called in. She shook her hair from her face as she turned on her heel and stalked towards the opposite wall of her apartment.

Something about that fire bothered her. The evening air was too moist for it to have started by itself. It had rained earlier, which meant wooden buildings would still be slightly damp and concrete did not burn that quickly. It was nowhere near any of the major gas outlets and there wasn't even a petrol station nearby. She supposed a fire could have started after an accident, or a car could have caught fire, but there was no way flames would have spread that quickly across wet concrete. It couldn't even be explained by negligence, Sakura knew that two weeks ago the gasworks had been repaired downtown - the roads had been closed and she had had to take a different route to the dojo. Arson was the only possible explanation, and a fire that size wasn't caused by kids messing about. It would have to have been premeditated; a building doused in gallons of petrol before being set alight.

Maybe she was being unreasonable but her first thought was the Akatsuki. Having read their website and the news reports, she knew that this kind of behaviour was not something they were above. And Itachi Uchiha, the oh-so-respectful man from earlier - she could well imagine him torching a building, working quickly with his face set, his eyes cold.

She had to know details. She reached for the radio, tuning it until she reached the city news. A few minutes into the programme there was a report on the fire, it was suspected to be deliberate, a huge team of fire-fighters faced a long battle into the night to control the blaze in the business district. There were no clues as to how the fire had been started or who was involved. Sakura snapped off the radio, she had heard enough. It was arson, as she has suspected. From her view out the window, the fire didn't seem to be showing any signs of abating.

A thought occurred to her suddenly and her heart seemed to skip a beat. There could be innocent people in the burning building, innocent people whose lives would be lost as they burned to cinders in the fire. She knew then that she could never be a part of an organisation that did that, no matter how much they bribed and threatened her.

She stared a few minutes longer at the blaze before turning her back. Her mind was made up. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a sudden movement out the window. It appeared someone was scaling the fire escape. Her heart in her mouth, she unsheathed a katana - it was an ancient family heirloom - and picked up the baseball bat she kept near her door. She crept silently out her apartment through the balcony door, and leapt nimbly onto the roof. She twisted and swung both weapons in a full circle then assumed a defensive half-crouch.

Nobody. Not even a sound. She couldn't see a soul on the dark roof. It then occurred to her that if anybody was after her they were likely to be deadly assassins, adept at concealing themselves and packing an arsenal of semi-automatics. They were not going to be remotely intimidated by a nineteen year old girl with martial arts skills, an ornamental sword and a sports bat. Feeling more than a little silly, she briefly glanced around the roof of the apartment complex once more before she stashed her katana and silently leapt back down on to her balcony.

There was nothing for it but to go to bed. The monsters she was barely conscious of having in her life would haunt her nightmares, waging war on the decent people of the world but at least she would get some rest. She double checked her doors and windows and changed out of her clothes, before slipping between her sheets. When she reached for the light switch, her eyes rested, as they always did on the photo frame on her bedside table. It showed a younger Sakura in the company of a blonde boy of a similar age, his blue eyes shining. Both children were smiling broadly. Tucked into the bottom corner of the frame, a smaller photo depicted the boy, now a handsome young man with a cautious, imposing expression on his fine features.

Sakura sighed. It was Naruto, of course, her childhood best friend. They'd signed the lease on the dojo together, but he'd suddenly disappeared soon after their first pro fight. She thought of him often but the two had not seen each other for nearly a year. She wondered, as she always did, what he was doing now. She clicked her light off and as she rested her head on her pillow, she prayed that he had not been sucked into the Akastuski's web of evil.


	4. Irritating

Thank you for reviewing, sorry for being slow with my updates :)

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Chapter 4.

Sakura had slept badly. When her alarm sounded she was almost relieved to get out of bed. Her dreams had been filled with visions of the Akatsuki, suspicious individuals shrouded in black wielding sniper rifles, burning fires and, for some reason, Gaara. More than once she had awoken, sweating and shaking with her heart pounding in her chest. Her hair was tousled from tossing and turning all night and she already had a hint of dark circles under her eyes. She slipped on a silk robe and padded barefoot to the kitchen, where the first thing she did was switch on her coffee maker, as usual.

While she sipped strong black coffee, she turned on the radio to listen to the morning news. She glanced out the window during the traffic report and saw that last night's fire had been put out. There was a small trail of smoke drifting towards the sky and when she opened the window she noticed a faint burnt smell. The radio broadcaster began an announcement about the fire. It was confirmed arson. The building in question had been a dojo.

Hearing this, Sakura almost dropped her coffee cup. A dojo! Her thoughts immediately went to her own dojo, but no, she was being irrational. Her dojo was not in that part of the city. Still, her mind raced. It could easily have been hers and she suspected the Akatsuki to have been behind it. What if they had made a mistake and had meant to burn her dojo? No, that was silly; multinational crime syndicates did not make mistakes. What if it was a warning to her and if she didn't join they'd burn hers too? She shook these thoughts from her mind and turned off the radio. She was being paranoid again, just like last night on the fire escape.

She washed up her breakfast things before showering quickly and dressing for work. She wore tight shorts under longer Capri pants and a sports bra with a mesh vest over it. She fixed her hair into a high bun, securing it with hairpins. Finally, she picked out a sweater which she draped over her shoulders before grabbing her purse and car keys, locking her apartment and taking the lift down to the parking lot.

At the dojo, she looked at her schedule. She had three kids classes to teach in the morning. Teaching children was enjoyable, Sakura found, mainly because they reminded her of Naruto. They generally listened to her instructions and she had fun making up games for them to keep them interested in their training. Unlike a lot of older martial arts practitioners, they also had a youthful enthusiasm for their sport that translated into fun. Plus, she earned most of her money from teaching children as their parents were happy to pay for one of the best martial artists in the city to teach their little darlings.

For the first time, however, Sakura was glad that she was teaching low skill level techniques because anything more strenuous would have exhausted her. Having had so little sleep the night before and constantly worrying about the Akatsuki, Sakura was not feeling her best.

It was rising noon and her third children's class was almost over. The parents of her pupils were waiting around the door, while Sakura organised a game which involved all fifteen or so screaming, delighted seven year olds attacking her at once, using the techniques she had taught them so far. The parents watched in joy, glad their children were having fun with the famous Sakura 'The Cherry Blossom' Haruno, as she was known on the fighting circuit. Her eyes scanned the crowd and she noticed someone with red hair standing behind one of the mums. He had his back to her, but if it was who she thought it was… Sakura pretended to be defeated by the onslaught of children quicker than she might usually have done and dismissed the class.

As the children filed out with their parents, the red-headed man approached her. As she suspected, it was Gaara. Was he intent on stalking her life? He was dressed entirely in black; a black shirt with the collar undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black slacks. His posture was calm and confident, but his slightly crumpled collar and hastily pushed up sleeves suggested he hadn't just been sitting in an office. She never did ask what he did for a living. His tousled hair, the very slight swelling on his cheek that would probably form a bruise tomorrow and the smudge of blood drying by his left elbow indicated he had been engaged in a rather different morning. There was the slight bulge of a handgun in his pocket (either that or he was pleased to see her, Sakura joked to herself). Judging by the black circles under his eyes he had obviously had an even worse night's sleep than she had - an insomniac, perhaps?

She continued taking him in, analysing him properly as he crossed the room. When she had met him at the bar she had only seen a good-looking face and a nice body. Now she had seen him fight, she took in his smooth movements and his quiet step on the floor. He'd obviously been fighting in his street clothes last night or this morning. Something about him suggested that he was a gangster, but she didn't think he was Akatsuki. Her guess was that he was possibly an undercover cop.

"Sakura," he greeted her. His face was contorted into its usual smirk and his voice was teasing. She stopped analysing him as she'd trained herself to and just looked at him. Despite how much he had irritated her, she immediately remembered what he looked like naked.

"Gaara," she replied, matching his tone.  
"This is a nice dojo you have here," he said conversationally. Sakura was becoming a little tired of hearing those words from people who so clearly had not come to say just that.  
"Thank you. It is one of the best in the city," she inclined her head.  
"The best without question now," he said, a humourless smile spreading across his face, "My own was unfortunately burnt down last night,"  
"I saw. I'm sorry to hear that," she replied. So he worked at a dojo, like her. Now she had a face to put to the unnamed victims of the fire. For some reason, she still suspected Akatsuki was behind the blaze.

"I came here today to ask permission to train at your dojo. I have no money to pay the fees, so perhaps I could work here and train in my spare time. I've come to offer my assistance,"  
"Your assistance?" Sakura retorted hotly, unsure as to what he thought she needed assisting with, "What makes you think I'd want that?"  
Gaara nodded. "Perhaps you misunderstand me, Sakura. You are in more danger than you think."

Sakura swore under her breath. Could he know about the Akatsuki's little visit last night? Was that what that mysterious phone call had been about. _Was_ he Akatsuki? But if he was, why would he want to train here? They probably had their own dojos. Plus, he just didn't _seem_ like an Akatsuki. He was warmer, politer and less threatening; yet still a formidable presence. Although she'd only met Uchiha and Hoshigaki of the Akatsuki, Gaara seemed worlds apart.

"You're not Akatsuki?" she asked. She cursed herself for the touch of fear she could hear in her voice  
"I'd be offended to be lumped with that scum, but does it matter?" Gaara said. His smile was sarcastic. She longed to wipe it off his face, she just wasn't sure if a kiss or a punch would be more appropriate.  
"Actually, it does matter because they're trying to get me to join them at the moment. Not that I have any immediate intention of doing so, but they're trying," Sakura replied, hoping to get more information out of him.  
"I know," he replied, "I followed them over last night. I didn't realise they were going for you. They've bugged your office but we're safe out here. Geniuses! I tried to trace them once they'd left, but I lost them downtown."

"They bugged my office. How dare they!" Sakura replied, angry. It must have been while she had left them there to take a shower. An elementary mistake; do not leave known gangsters unattended amongst your personal belongings.  
"Sakura-chan, I'll get rid of it," Gaara replied. He was still smirking playfully.  
"Don't call me that," Sakura snapped, more coldly than she'd intended. He raised his eyebrows. Sakura looked away and nearly a minute passed in silence. Only Naruto called her that childish honorific.

"Sorry," they both apologised at once. Sakura glanced at Gaara's face - it was truly impassive - before looking down again. Another few seconds passed in silence, before Gaara crossed the hall. Sakura didn't follow him. Her mind was reeling. Something told her to trust him more than the Akatsuki members she had dealt with the other evening. She also sensed that he would be a good fighter when he wasn't dicking about - better than most she had fought - and she wanted to test herself against him. Properly. Perhaps she could offer him a job at the dojo, after all. He seemed to know more about the Akatsuki than she did and at this stage she could hardly turn down any sources of information. However, could she really deal with his changeable personality and her ongoing desire for him, despite her best intentions.

Moments later, Gaara reappeared with a bunch of twisted metal and a few trailing wires in his hands. He grinned wryly. Sakura assumed that was the surveillance device the Akatsuki had left in her office. What did they want from her? If they wanted her to join, surely they should be trying to gain her trust, not snooping round behind her back. She was angry and confused. Gaara snapped the device in his bare hands and put in the bin. He removed and pocketed the wires.

"Gaara, about Thursday night…" Sakura started, unsure how to continue, "I just wanted to apologise…"  
"Trust me, I've already forgotten about it," Gaara said.  
"That bad, was it?" Sakura asked. She imitated his teasing voice.  
"No, that's not it at all. It was very good, actually," Gaara said intensely. Sakura blushed, "It's just that, I didn't know who you were then and it probably shouldn't have happened considering who you are and who I am," he continued. Back to being cryptic again.  
"Why? Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Gaara. You're Sakura Haruno," he said, as if that was somehow significant.  
"And that's why we shouldn't have had sex?" she snapped. His logic was somewhat lost on her.  
"Yeah. And why do you care? You're the one who left. It's 'just sex', isn't it?" he asked, turning her own words back on her.  
"It's never 'just sex'!" Sakura said angrily.

"Can we get back to the point? I need a place to train and this is the best in the city," Gaara said.  
"Who says I want you to train at my dojo?" she snapped.  
"Stop being childish, Sakura," he said scornfully.  
"Stop being an asshole, Gaara," she matched his tone.

They stared each other down. They had stepped closer during their exchange of heated words and neither broke eye contact. Even as she stared into Gaara's pale green eyes they flashed angrily, before calming slightly and taking on a softer tint. No matter how irritating he could be, Sakura realised she could stare into those eyes for hours without tiring of them.

Without warning, he leaned down and kissed her delicately on her full, pink lips. Sakura felt the warmth of his mouth against hers. This was not like the frantic, lusty kisses of their night spent together; it was softer, more uncertain. Gaara carefully placed a hand on the small of her back and without really intending to, Sakura moved closer to him, deepening the kiss. When they eventually broke apart Sakura stared into his unreadable eyes.

"And that makes it all better, does it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Gaara took two steps backwards and turned away from her. He put his hand to his brow and it wasn't until a few seconds afterwards that Sakura realised he was laughing silently.

"You're so unpredictable. Would you really have hit me with a katana last night?" he asked through his sniggers. Sakura fixed him with a withering glare, unimpressed by his games, "Or was it a baseball bat?" he continued, still smirking. Sakura eventually cottoned on and felt her temper rising.  
"What the _fuck,"_ she spat, "Were you doing on my balcony?" God, she was annoyed. What gave him the right to do any of that?  
"I told you, didn't I?" he replied lightly, "You're in danger."  
"So will you be if you don't watch it! You get one last chance, before so help me God, I'll smash your face in!" she snarled. She couldn't believe she had just kissed this literal vermin. Although she was unaware of it, she had curled her fist into a tight ball, digging her nails into her palm. Gaara closed a hand over hers; a gentle gesture but one that essentially prevented her from lashing out at him. He wasn't scared of her, for all her displays of temper and tough talk, Sakura realised, he was treating her like an overindulged child.

And he was still smirking. Oh, he made her so mad.

"Calm down," he said soothingly but the smirk had not left his eyes.  
She snatched herself from his grasp and stomped out of the room. She returned with some cleaning supplies; if he was going to irritate her that much he could damn well make himself useful.  
"You said you wanted a job here; now get mopping," she presented him with a mop and a bucket, which he grudgingly accepted. She left for the office and spent the rest of her morning doing paperwork until one of her student's parents popped in to deliver a cheque during her lunch break.  
"Why do you have a sulky hot man scrubbing the dojo?" the woman asked nosily.  
"New recruit," Sakura replied cryptically. The two women chatted for a few moments before the mother returned to her office. Oh brilliant, Gaara was sulking now apparently. Sakura was well aware she was sulking, but somehow she expected more from Gaara. Maybe she got under his skin just as much as he got under hers.

Sakura filed a few more forms and approved some payments before sitting back in her chair. She was exhausted and still no closer to finding out any answers about the Akatsuki. A year ago, she had been Sasuke Uchiha's meek trophy girlfriend; a weak little girl. She was a high school dropout with no family to speak of. She had always lived in the shadow of those surrounding her - particularly Sasuke and Naruto. Now, however, she had a fearsome reputation as one of the best female fighters in the city, if not the country. She could take a man out with just one punch, all because she had been determined to prove herself. Sakura remembered what Itachi Uchiha had said, that the Akatsuki had been watching her last fight. She was now in a position to make even international criminals sit up and take notice of her. She idly wondered how closely people had been following her rise to the top of the professional circuit and whether Sasuke and Naruto were watching her.

That explained Akatsuki's interest near enough, but what about Gaara? He was a mystery to her - dynamic in the sack but a total pain in the arse. She could take his story at face value - that his dojo had burnt down and he needed somewhere to train and she was the best in the area, but that explanation left holes. He had mentioned he had followed the Akatsuki to her dojo and told her she was in great danger but had not explained why. She didn't know whether to trust him or not. Still, she wanted to find out what he knew about the Akatsuki. She had to swallow her pride and any feelings she definitely didn't have for him and make amends.

Sakura left her office and found Gaara cleaning the windows in the deserted men's changing rooms. She had to admit, he was a good worker. The normally pristine dojo was looking exceptionally immaculate, even by Sakura's high standards.  
"Nice work, Gaara," Sakura said, "I expect you aren't used to cleaning but you've done a good job. Take a break and I'll put the kettle on,"  
She lead Gaara into her office. She offered him a seat while she made them some hot drinks. She then sat down opposite Gaara and slowly sipped her tea. In the executive chair behind her desk, Sakura spun slowly for a second before cutting to the chase.

"What do you know about the Akatsuki?" she demanded.  
"What do _you _know about them?" Gaara countered in the same tone. His red hair was tousled from his day spent fighting and cleaning. He was still wearing his black wife-beater although it was a little more crumpled now. Sakura hadn't noticed it before but there was a small tattoo on his shoulder with a spiral pattern. The tiny spot of blood by his left elbow was still there too, although it was dry now. He didn't seem to have noticed it but its presence was annoying Sakura. She couldn't explain why it bothered her exactly but it was probably because she didn't think it was his own blood.

The pair stared each other down, neither giving one inch. They let their questions hang unanswered in the air. Sakura was burning with curiosity but she wasn't about to give in. Gaara had evoked a stubbornness in her and a desire to keep her own limited knowledge personal. Some things about his story didn't add up. She thought it was a little strange that Gaara, a renowned fighting champion would debase himself into scrubbing the toilets in someone else's dojo without payment.

"Fine," Gaara snapped, breaking the cold silence "You don't have to trust me and I don't have to trust you. But I'm not going anywhere Sakura-chan and it would _really_ be in your best interests to do what I say." He almost spat the childish honorific as if it were a disgusting swearword. Sakura gritted her teeth with anger. She had already told him not to call her 'Sakura-chan' and he clearly wasn't stupid, so he was just doing it to be callous.

But more than that, Sakura realised he genuinely wanted to protect her. Gaara hated the Akatsuki, Sakura realised, and that hatred ran deeper than just the average citizen's hatred for the criminal gang. This was personal. Even though they didn't exactly owe each other anything, he had taken interest in her first and he wasn't going to lose to any of the Akatsuki over this. _That_ must be the reason for him being here today.

Well, she wasn't going to let him intimidate her. If he thought it was acceptable to speak to her like that then she was just going to be icily polite and keep things strictly professional. If he said he wasn't going to go anywhere, she could probably use that to her advantage: the dojo could do with a few repairs. Meanwhile, he could keep his bad attitude and just thank his lucky stars he didn't get to see her temper. She had enough on her plate with the Akatsuki sniffing around, without having to deal with a tetchy cage fighter with an attitude problem.

"Understood, Gaara-san," she replied sweetly, "Wash the blood off your arm," Gaara looked rather taken aback by her response but Sakura wasn't sure if that was due to her excessive politeness or her remark about blood. He licked his finger and began rubbing his arm.

The two didn't speak for the remainder of the afternoon as they began to train. Sakura warmed up by jogging and sprinting the length of the dojo and lifted weights to maintain her strength. She worked on her technique on the mat before finally taking all her anger out on the punch bag hanging from the ceiling. It would have been good to spar now that she had a training partner of sorts but Sakura was quite happy to leave that to another day.

Exhausted, Sakura finally finished her training not long after the eight o'clock sundown. She mopped her brow and drank deeply from her water bottle. Gaara was sitting on the mat, freshly showered and dressed in his shirt and slacks once again. Sakura nodded to him on her way to the women's changing rooms. She was suddenly conscious of his appreciative eye on her scantily clad body as she walked past him. He seemed so different to the smooth-talking seducer she'd met in the bar. She wasn't sure whether she preferred flirtatious Gaara or the angry, sarcastic one who had turned up in her dojo.

Sakura locked up and walked with Gaara to the parking lot. She unlocked her car before tossing her bag onto the passenger seat. Gaara subtly checked around before getting into her car and fiddling with the dashboard and radio. He felt across the ceiling and under the seats. He pulled up the cushions in the backseats, before getting out and checking in the boot and bonnet as well. Sakura was about to kick his butt when she remembered the surveillance device in her office. Once satisfied, Gaara nodded and allowed Sakura to get back in her car. She pulled out of the parking lot and gave Gaara a wave he did not return.

As far as she could see, the situation with Gaara did not improve things at all. Firstly, she had Akatsuki who wanted her to join their dangerous criminal brethren. That she could cope with, just about. It was after all, her ex's family behind the biggest crime syndicate in this part of the world, despite the fact that she was scared and disgusted by them. She didn't exactly appreciate their tactics of bugging her office. Gaara however, was different. Judging from the news reports she'd read the day before, she was sure the Akatsuki had plenty of enemies. When he showed up he had said she was in danger, hadn't he. Had that been a sick joke or a warning? His hatred for Akatsuki was evident in Sakura's view but that did not explain his presence in her life. Not that she was complaining, clearly. She enjoyed his attention, no matter how sulky or sardonic he could be.

When she was home Sakura locked and bolted all her doors, careful to keep out all unwanted intruders. She felt as if she was suddenly caught up in a dubious world of crime, gangs and murder. The underworld that had previously been a figment of bad television programmes now seemed like a very real part of her life. Sakura had no idea who to trust.

For now though, she was starving and exhausted. She cooked herself some rice and tried to ignore the gunshots she could hear echoing across the city. She thought of Gaara with his handgun in his pocket and blood down his arm. Was that how he spent his evenings? She thought of Uchiha, excessively polite yet steely cold. She could picture him blasting off rounds with the same expressionless look in his eyes.

Sakura was scared. If she had been the type of girl who cried, she was sure she would be in tears right now. Instead, she kept calm and allowed numbness to fill her core. She was terrified and confused; she suddenly felt very small. Sakura wolfed down her rice and double checked her doors and windows. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up under her covers and hope she would soon wake up from the nightmare her life had become.

Once settled in bed, Sakura reached over to look at her photos of Naruto. If only she knew where he was, he would be able to help her sort out this mess. Naruto would know exactly what to do: he'd kick Gaara's ass and the whole of the Akatsuki's collective asses and then come back grinning all over his face, like he did when they were children. Sakura looked at the photo, expecting to see Naruto's grinning face. Instead her heart froze when she saw it. Tucked into the top corner of the frame was a black business card. It had a red cloud pattern on it, which Sakura instantly recognised as the emblem of the Akatsuki.

It had definitely not been there last night. Sakura fought the urge to scream. Cold dread was creeping all over her body. They had been here. She was no longer safe in her own home. They had got in somehow, and Sakura knew her security was tight. The doors were locked, no windows had been smashed: she didn't dare speculate how they'd entered her flat. Although she was practically paralysed with fear, Sakura reached for the business card. She half-expected it to be blank and acting only as a shock tactic, to show her the Akatsuki's power.

She turned it over and revealed the name: Itachi Uchiha, followed by a cell number.

Well, if Uchiha wanted her to call him there were better ways of making it happen than breaking into her apartment, Sakura thought angrily, before realising there were not. This was exactly what Uchiha would have wanted. She could picture his thought processes: he hoped she would be scared, confused and demanding answers, and a business card with a contact number that would provide the answers would seem like a godsend.

Leaving the cell number was a trap.

She had no intention of ringing Uchiha. Still, she retrieved her cell phone and programmed in the new contact. She flicked through her phonebook. She now had Gaara and Itachi Uchiha both saved, though she had no real desire to speak to either of them. In fact, the only person she did want to speak to, the grinning golden-haired troublemaker who could magically make all her problems go away, she didn't have a contact number for.

Sakura rolled over and through her sheer exhaustion, slipped into an uneasy sleep. As she dozed fitfully, she was unaware of the commotions in the criminal underworld and the eyes watching her every move from across the city.


	5. Tears

Chapter 5.

Sakura could hardly sleep that night, nor the night after. She barely spent any time in her apartment, returning only to pick up fresh clothes and try to sleep. Four days after she had met Uchiha fear was beginning to take over. Exhausted from lack of sleep and barely eating, Sakura spent most of her time at the dojo. On the fifth morning, she awoke before her alarm after another night of fitful sleep. She was having nightmares and it seemed these nightmares were seeping into her regular life.

She padded barefoot to her kitchen and as usual, the first thing she did was switch on the coffee maker. She flicked the switch and jumped back as if she had been shocked. She hadn't noticed it at first, but propped up against the coffee machine was a sleek black business card. It had red clouds on it, just like the first. Gingerly, she picked it up and turned it over.

It said 'Call me' in neat cursive script, followed by the name Itachi Uchiha and the same mobile number she had programmed into her phone days previously.

Sakura took several deep breaths. She could feel her heart rate raising but she forced herself to stay calm. Running on icy adrenaline, she checked her kitchen window: locked and impregnable from the outside. She raced to her front door and yanked on the handle. It was locked and bolted, with the chain still on. Every door and window in her apartment received a similar treatment, and every single one was securely locked. With a cold sweat forming on her skin, Sakura returned to her kitchen to scrutinise the business card for more clues.

How did he get in? She tore at her raspberry-coloured hair as her mind went over and over the possibilities. Sakura was observant and usually good at working out puzzles like these. Unless she was missing the glaringly obvious, she could see no possible way for someone to enter. Yet the evidence was there; the stark black of the business card standing out against her white kitchen counter.

There had been three in total; one in the post and two that had been left: the first a regular professionally printed business card of the sort that Uchiha probably gave out to acquaintances and business partners daily, the second to which he had added the words 'call me': an instruction. Neat handwriting, Sakura observed but that didn't tell her anything. Where they'd been left did tell her something though. The first was in the photo frame by her bed, the one she looked at every night. The second was by her coffee maker, which she used every morning. This told her that not only were they able to get in to her home but that they were watching her round the clock. They knew her daily routine. Sakura broke into an icy sweat.

She couldn't stay here, she decided quickly. Hastily, she walked round her apartment, gathering the things she would need; a few changes of clothes, some basic toiletries, her cell phone charger and her photo of Naruto. She packed them into a bag and as a spontaneous thing, she slid the two Akatsuki business cards into her wallet.

Sakura grabbed her purse and her overnight bag before locking her apartment and driving to the dojo. It was earlier than she normally arrived so she had time to open up and make herself some tea and breakfast before any of her clients arrived. The mornings were the busiest times for her as it was when people wanted to train before going to work. Soon, the dojo was bustling with activity as her regulars worked out. This was the way Sakura liked it because she could wander around, correcting a kata here, offering a tip there. The regulars asked her interested questions about her latest fight or how her training was going and Sakura answered politely, happy to be lost in her work.

She was tired, however, which she noticed when activity died down and her morning children's class trooped in. After the kids had gone, she relaxed in her office. At first she was going over her options in her mind, thinking of where she could hide or how she could outsmart the Akatsuki. She could drive far away, out of the city or even out the country. But they'd find her, she reasoned. She was stumped and her head felt heavy. It was warm and quiet in her office and her chair was so comfy. If she just leaned her head back…just for a few minutes….

There was a clink of porcelain against her desk top and Sakura started. Her neck was stiff and she felt groggy.

"You're tired," she heard a man's voice say, "I made you tea."

Sakura blinked and opened her eyes. Gaara was looking at her with concern, holding his own hot drink. Sakura reached for her cup. When she took a sip of the warm liquid, she instantly felt better.

"Thanks," she said, "How long was I asleep for?" She stretched her arms above her head and allowed her spine to crack.

"You were asleep when I got in at twelve and it's nearly three now," Gaara answered.

Sakura swore. "The women's self-defence class! It was supposed to be at half one!"

"It's okay, I taught it. The ladies seemed very grateful," Gaara said soothingly. Sakura breathed a sigh of relief. She grinned to herself. She bet the ladies were grateful, they loved to gossip and being taught by a hot young man would set their tongues wagging.

"Sakura," Gaara began carefully, "Is something bothering you?" He paused, as if choosing his words carefully, "It's not the Akatsuki, is it? You would tell me if they were trying to contact you, wouldn't you?"

It _was_ the Akatsuki, but Sakura wasn't about to tell him that.

"Why are you being nice to me?" Sakura asked. Gaara's moods seemed to change like the wind. One moment he was defensive and the next he was trying to show a caring side.

"You're scared," Gaara answered, "And you're in danger. Believe it or not, I'm not a heartless bastard,"

"I'm fine," Sakura lied.

"Sure?" he asked and Sakura nodded. He didn't mention it again and the two worked solidly through the afternoon in amicable silence. Sakura longed to reach out and trust Gaara, to tell him about the frightening world of underground gang culture she had just discovered. But she had only scratched the surface of the criminal underworld and she had no idea who she could confide in. Gaara was the best candidate because he already seemed to know and dislike the Akatsuki. Sakura was in a difficult position. She wanted to talk to Gaara but she didn't know him well enough to trust him. What side was he on? What were his motivations? Her dealings with the Akatsuki were a matter of potential life or death, Sakura realised grimly and she did not want to compromise her own safety just for the sake of getting laid.

The pair sparred when the activity in the dojo died down. Like most days, they trained together. When they fought, Sakura found that they were pretty evenly matched. Sometimes Gaara won, sometimes she did. This provided her with a goal to strive towards: to become better than Gaara. She looked forward to their daily training sessions to see if she had improved against Gaara's techniques. She pushed herself harder than ever to try and get the upper hand. Sakura Haruno never lost but if she were ever to face Gaara for real, it would be luck that dictated who won; rather than Sakura's skill, as she was used to in her fights.

Another reason Sakura relished her training sessions with Gaara was because he typically worked out without a shirt. While the sexual tension sparked in the air between them, they had not been intimate since the hot night at the bar; a night much-replayed in Sakura's memory. With his perfect muscles enhanced by a light sheen of sweat coupled with his tousled hair and concentrated expression, Sakura was unable to deny the attraction she continued to feel towards him. She breathed deeply whenever she caught herself thinking this way. She didn't exactly have room in her head to deal with feelings for anyone at the moment. Her life was in danger and she was wasting time dreaming up sexual fantasies. She was being very silly, she decided: if she couldn't bring herself to trust Gaara, she could hardly justify jumping his bones. Again.

Gaara left shortly after five, saying he had an urgent appointment to get to. Sakura prayed it wasn't a date but then he didn't exactly seem like the dating type. No, she decided Gaara was the bad-boy type, the love-them-and-leave-them type, the me-first commitment-shy type. Just like Sasuke Uchiha. But she'd tamed him, hadn't she? They had dated for over a year; there was no reason why she couldn't intrigue another bad boy. It has to be noted that she spent less and less time thinking about her self-entitled ex now that she was in the throes of sexual obsession with a new man.

Sakura wondered what Gaara did when he wasn't working or training at her dojo. She decided he must keep very odd hours: more than once she had received a text message from him in the early hours of the morning yet every day he turned up to work not long after midday. Sakura initially wondered if he worked another job until noon, but when she asked him what he usually did in the mornings, he replied that he slept, with a wry smile. That was something she definitely hadn't expected: a typical lazy young man who slept in on a morning.

Then there was the question of the car he drove. As far as she could tell, Gaara seemed to own a fleet of identical black Mercedes S-classes. She knew there were at least two, as she had identified two different number plates and suspected there to be a third. Could a person who drove those kind of cars really not afforded to pay the fees for a dojo? Little inconsistencies like these niggled at her mind and the more she thought of them, the less inclined she was to take Gaara's story at face value.

Sakura decided she needed to get out more. She didn't really have many friends to speak of; in fact, Naruto, her only close friend had been missing for over a year now. Since dropping out of high school at the end of last year, Sakura had lost contact with her classmates. And nobody was in the underground fighting business to make friends. As the feared 'Cherry Blossom', Sakura was not about to ruin her reputation by turning to one of the tough guys in a time of need. In a sense, she spent most of her time that wasn't occupied with running the dojo worrying about the respective situations with Gaara and each of the Uchiha brothers: neither of which could be called healthy relationships. Deidara was her only friend so to speak but she was becoming worried for him too. She hadn't seen him since the night of the fight, where he had left quickly to avoid attracting the attention of Itachi Uchiha and Kisame Hoshigaki of the Akatsuki. Every day she checked the car park for his motorbike and it was never there. There was even mail building up behind his door; he clearly hadn't returned to his apartment. Sakura was damned if she was going to have another friend disappear on her. She dialled his number on her cell. Straight to answer-phone, yet again. She left her umpteenth worried voicemail message, concerned he was not picking them up.

Seeing as she had decided to leave her apartment for awhile, Sakura had to figure out where to spend her evening before sleeping in her car. She could hardly sit around the dojo all evening; it was likely to be the first place Uchiha would try after not finding her at her home. She closed up a little later than usual and drove into the city centre. It took her the best part of half an hour to find a free parking spot and when she did, Sakura got out of her car and tried to get her bearings. She swung her overnight bag over her shoulder, thankful that oversized handbags were in fashion so she wouldn't stand out, before heading down the road.

She was in the entertainment district, she noted. There was a mall round here which would be open so Sakura went there. She browsed a few shops before losing interest and going to a café. She ordered a coffee and sat by herself, wishing she had thought to bring a book or something. The café soon filled up as people left work and went to out to eat dinner. Sakura was lost in her thoughts, fiddling with her Styrofoam coffee cup.

She was jerked from her reverie when someone started talking to her, "Can I sit there, huh?" A man asked, laughter in his voice. She would recognise that verbal tick anywhere. She stood up, nearly knocking the table over in her enthusiasm to give him a hug. Slightly taken aback, Deidara returned the hug. He seemed a little embarrassed by the commotion they were causing in the very public coffee shop. Remembering her manners, Sakura offered her friend a seat. He was three years older than her but definitely none the wiser and he had long blond hair styled into a half ponytail with the front section hanging over his face. He was wearing a black jacket but Sakura could see the outlines of his lean muscular physique underneath. He wasn't much taller than herself but she knew him to be powerful. A waitress brought his coffee over a few minutes later and unashamedly checked him out. He grinned to himself but ignored her. _That_ was typical Deidara: due to his good looks and relaxed personality he was a hit with the ladies but he never let it bother him.

"Where have you _been_?" Sakura demanded, "I've been so worried!"

Deidara brushed off her concern, wordlessly offering her a cigarette which she declined. He shrugged, sparked up and blew smoke in her face. Sakura coughed pointedly.

"I've been crashing at my man Sasori's for a bit. It's closer to school, yeah," he said nonchalantly. He didn't quite meet her eyes.

"And you couldn't answer your phone because…?" Sakura asked.

"New number," he replied. His put on casualness wasn't fooling Sakura one bit. There was definitely something else going on. She fixed him with a hard stare, indicating that she didn't buy his tales one bit.

"You don't believe me, do you?" he said disappointedly, and when she shook her head: "Ah well, it was worth a shot, huh?"

"What's going on, Deidara?" Sakura asked, not unkindly.

He paused, sighed and ruffled his long blond hair. He averted his gaze again; "…I cant tell you," he replied at last. He pointedly steered the conversation to more neutral topics. Art school was going fine; his exploding sculptures were improving nicely and he was getting along well with his mentor Sasori, despite their contrasting views on the nature of art. Sakura let it go and chatted happily.

"So how's that bloke with the red hair then? Gaara whatshisname?" Deidara asked oh-so-casually.

"How do you know his name all of a sudden?" Sakura asked, suddenly wary.

"Just do. I didn't realise who he was that night at the bar. How is he, anyway? He hasn't been acting suspiciously or anything, huh?" Deidara said, maintaining his air of casualness. It has to be said that despite his many good qualities, Deidara was not a very convincing liar.

"He's always acting suspiciously. As are you, and in fact everyone else I seem to know," Sakura answered, "Why do you care anyway?" She was going to call his bluff on that fake nonchalance.

"I don't, particularly. It's just that I hate his guts and I think the world would be a better place without him and the thought of you having sex with him makes me feel physically sick, that's all, huh," Deidara answered cheerfully, as if they were discussing the weather.

"Deidara, what the hell?" Sakura snapped. As if she didn't get enough of this kind of crap from everyone else in her life, "What's your problem? Gaara's a decent man."

"Oh Christ, this is even worse than when you were dating that Uchiha scumbag," Deidara sighed overdramatically. He lit another cigarette and paused a moment, considering this, "Actually I don't think it is. There's nobody I hate more in the world than the Uchiha family. This Sabuku is just a minor inconvenience compared to them. Don't tell him, though. I think he prides himself on being a real spanner in the works. Him and his lot; that make-up loving brother of his and his super bitchy sister and that blond kid you used to hang out with. Don't you get caught up with that lot, whatever you do." He exhaled a fresh burst of smoke into Sakura's face.

She could feel her temper rising, "I haven't a clue what you're talking about but I suggest you pack it in, before I punch your fucking lights out," she threatened in a sugared tone.

"Geez, I'm just kidding - there's no need to get all malicious," Deidara dismissed lightly, not remotely bothered by her threats, "You can screw whoever you want, just don't come crying to me if it comes to bite you on the ass, that's all I'm saying."

"Is this dating tips, or advice on how to not get shot?" Sakura asked, realising she was in desperate need of both. Despite this, a smile was back on her face. It was impossible to stay mad at Deidara for long. At his criticism of Gaara, Sakura's mind immediately leapt to the criminal underworld but she told herself she was being paranoid. There was no way the calm, smiling man sitting opposite her could be a member of the Akatsuki. Could he?

"Little bit of both… Hey, do you fancy heading to a bar after this. You never know, there might be another shady asshole you could have wild sex with," he suggested, winding her up. Sakura assented; it wasn't exactly like she had any plans for the evening. Besides, she liked Deidara's company. He was fun and uncomplicated which made a welcome change from the impassive, changeable Gaara. Not as sexy, though.

As they walked to the bar, Deidara chatted idly about his life at the university and his friends, making Sakura laugh. Deep down, she longed for a circle of friends, even after years of telling herself she didn't need them. When they entered the entertainment district, Sakura asked Deidara about his art. She had always found it fascinating that someone could be so passionate about something. Deidara came across as a typical tough guy: not an aspiring artist. They chatted a bit about art and different styles. Sakura confessed she didn't know much about art but that she liked pop art. Deidara snorted that pop was dead. He studied sculpture but he thought that art was transient rather than eternal. He told her that the beauty was in its passing and that a wonderful fleeting moment was better than a long hour. Surprising herself, Sakura found herself agreeing. A cynical thought occurred to her - adopting that kind of philosophy suggested that he would probably end up dieing young.

"Hey, I want to show you something," he said. They were at a multi-storey car park and he lead her in and up several flights of stairs to the roof. There were hardly any cars parked there and Sakura could see the stars. Deidara turned to her and extracted some clay from his pocket. His fingers working fast, he deftly moulded it. A few seconds later he held up the finished product, a simplified cherry blossom branch approximately the size of his palm. She smiled.

"This is for you," Deidara said, grinning broadly, "Now watch." To Sakura's surprise he threw the miniature blossom into the air above their heads. She followed it with her eyes. Deidara's forehead creased slightly in concentration and he brought two fingers up to his face.

"Katsu!" he said forcefully. In the sky above them, the cherry blossom exploded loudly. The night sky was filled with a flash of pink light, before trails of light pink smoke drifted away with the breeze.

"It's beautiful," Sakura breathed. She watched the sky clear again and turned to Deidara, smiling.

"Isn't it? The pink was for you, to match your hair," he said. When she looked again, she could see the trails of smoke drifting away were the exact same shade of pink as her hair. "Now quick, the police don't tend to like it much when I start blowing things up,"

Sakura followed Deidara down the steps and leapt over the banister at the bottom. They sprinted round a few more blocks, before coming to a halt to catch their breath. The bar was just round the corner; a different one to where she had met Gaara; its drinks cheap and its décor a little on the seedy side. Apparently it was a student haunt.

While she queued for a drink, Sakura scanned the crowded room. The floor was a little sticky, the punters a little grubby and the paint job a little shabby. A couple of people were playing pool and some girls were dancing. Sakura vaguely recognised a few of them from her high school, although her world was so different to theirs now. She didn't expect to see anybody she knew and was grateful she didn't. Neither Gaara nor either Uchiha were there but Sasuke would probably rather die than be caught in a place like this. As for Gaara and Itachi, they'd be more likely to be spending their evenings shooting people in gangland or drinking overpriced cocktails somewhere. Naruto wasn't there either, of course. He was never anywhere and she always wanted him to be.

Sakura fished out her wallet while she was waiting for the bartender to fix her drink. Deidara, standing next to her, raised his eyebrows in surprise but did not say anything. She paid for their drinks and took a refreshing swig. It wasn't until she was putting her wallet away that she realised the Akatsuki business cards had been very visible. Grabbing her tightly by the upper arm, Deidara directed her to a secluded corner of the bar, his expression grim.

"What do you have in your wallet?" he demanded.

Sakura decided to play it cool, "Um…spare change, credit card, driver's licence, that kind of thing," she answered, feigning surprise which Deidara didn't buy.

"I meant the Akatsuki business cards. Why do you have them?" he hissed angrily. Sakura considered how to answer this. If she was going to tell him about the gang's interest in her, a bar probably wasn't the best place to do it. Besides, 'Uchiha' was a disgusting swearword in Deidara's books and was guaranteed to send him into a rage which would probably result in him trying to blow up the Uchiha mansion with some of his clay.

"Oh, those. They're from a friend," she said casually. Deidara choked on his beer, eyes popping.

"A friend?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. Is it that difficult to believe I have any?" she grinned, her eyes filled with innocence. Deidara narrowed his eyes but nothing more was said on the subject. Uchiha's business cards were burning a hole in her pocket.

"Are you going to get back into fighting?" Sakura asked.

"I don't know, depends on how much the Uchihas piss me off. It's a bit too conspicuous though," Deidara smirked. Although he had officially retired, he had a reputation as an explosion in the ring. Although she'd never fought him, Sakura had watched him absolutely decimate some of his opponents. Nowadays, he focussed his time on perfecting his art, which apparently meant suspiciously hanging around public buildings blowing things up. Deidara had always been one for trouble but his behaviour lately was different. Sakura wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know exactly what he was up to if he wanted to keep a low profile in the underworld.

They left a few minutes before closing time in order to beat the crowds. Out in the cool night air, Sakura breathed deeply. She glanced around her and listened intently. Gunshots. About half a mile away. A few seconds pause, then more. For some reason, every time she heard a shot firing in the city the first thing that came to mind were thoughts of Gaara and Itachi Uchiha. She could imagine them both firing guns with hard expressions on their faces.

Suddenly Deidara changed. He stiffened and his face contorted into a tough frown. He looked distracted and his right hand seemed to move unconsciously to tighten over his gun.

"I have to go," he said. Behind them, the gunshots blasted on. Sakura was confused by his sudden change but before she had time to respond he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her round to face him.

"You shouldn't be out; it's no place for you at the moment. Go home, get a taxi and don't go into this part of town. I'll call you in a few days," Deidara pressed a twenty into her hand and stepped back. He pulled his hood over his head and fixed a blank, determined look on his face. He then turned and ran in the direction of the shots, drawing out his handgun as he did.

That was odd, Sakura thought. She pocketed the money Deidara had given but ignored his advice about the taxi and headed towards her parked car a few blocks away. Minutes later there were sirens. Sakura ignored them and looked up at the stars. She wanted to totally switch her mind off and process all of this another time, she wanted to leave the city, leave the country and forget all about the stupid stupid world she lived in. But she couldn't. The best she could do was find her car and curl up in the backseat, a blanket over her head and wait until morning.

As she got closer, traffic grew heavier until the cars seemed to be whooshing past in a constant stream. One of these cars, driving fast, screeched to halt and made an illegal U-turn, earning a chorus of honks from other drivers, before pulling up next to Sakura. It was a black car and looked to be a Mercedes. The driver wound the electric window down.

"Get in," he snarled in an angry voice. It was Gaara, dressed entirely in black and with a furious expression on his usually calm face. Sakura flinched with fright. She had seen lots of sides to Gaara's temper but this was something new entirely. Sakura hesitated. She could see his gun resting on his lap.

"Sakura, get in the car before I get angry," Gaara growled. With fear rising in the back of her throat, she quickly complied. She slid into the front seat, shaking with fear. Gaara stashed his gun once again and turned on her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded over the roar of the Mercedes engine as they shot off again. Sakura was unable to answer, for fear of saying the wrong thing. She'd seen Gaara shirty but this was something new. She was scared by his anger.

"Can't you keep yourself safe for once Sakura? What the hell are you doing wandering round here at night? Anything could have happened! How could you be so stupid?" Gaara shouted. His facial expression was murderous and he was driving far too fast.

Although she hated it, Sakura felt hurt by his harsh words. Each shouted syllable was like a blow to her heart. She hated that he was angry with her. She hated that she was bothered by it. But more than anything, she hated that she still wanted him. More than that, she wanted him to like her and tell her everything was okay. To hold her tight, stroke her hair and kiss her softly.

Instead, she did the only thing she knew how to: she retorted hotly, "I was with my friend Deidara until a few minutes ago but, he uh…had to leave suddenly," she concluded lamely.

"He just left you by yourself in the middle of the night? While there's a shootout going on and you being who you are? Shit, he's even more of an asshole than I thought. God, I'll put a brick through his temple," Gaara raged.

"Surely you would realise that you're Akatsuki's most wanted now! How can you put yourself in such danger? Are you totally stupid?" Gaara continued. Sakura wanted to curl up in a corner. Hating herself for it more than ever, Sakura felt the hot sting of tears pricking the corners of her eyes. Before she could stop herself, hurt tears were pouring down her face.

Gaara was dressed entirely in black; a black singlet revealing his vertical swirl tattoo on his upper arm, black jeans and black boots. He had a bit of black material round his neck which looked like it could be pulled over his head to disguise his distinctive hair and hide his face. Through the tears Sakura could see he still looked hot, even when he was angry. Feeling cross with herself, she thought of what she could do to improve the mood in the car.

"Gaara, I -" she began, before he cut her off.

"Don't talk. I need to calm down," he snapped. He pulled the car off the road and parked outside an apartment building. He cut off the engine and glanced round.

"Get out," he snarled, jumping out the car. Sakura picked up her bag, but before she could do it herself, Gaara had opened her door for her. Not daring to ask where they were going, Sakura followed him into his apartment building. Last time she had been here there had been a very different atmosphere between the two of them. They climbed to the top floor, Sakura struggling with her heavy bag. She tried to stop herself from crying but the tears kept coming, which she hated. Never before had she felt so weak and humiliated. Here she was, infamous professional fighter with a reputation that had most people quaking in their boots, crying because someone had shouted at her. She was being stupid. She was once again the weak little girl who had relied on Naruto and Sasuke all those years ago. She was nothing against an international crime syndicate and now, it seemed she was nothing to Gaara, too.

When they reached the top floor, Gaara unlocked a door. She followed him in as he turned on the lights in his apartment. It was as she remembered; the living area was tastefully decorated in cream and black with comfy-looking sofas. She caught her reflection in a mirror on the wall. Her pale, tear-stained face stared back at her, looking weak and forlorn.

"Sit down," Gaara directed, before stalking out of the room. Sakura sat on a sofa, feeling too scared and meek to relax comfortably. Why was she so stupid? Of course going to a bar in the rough area of town was a bad idea, not to mention wandering the city streets at that time of night when gunshots were in the air. She knew that but Gaara didn't have to be so harsh. She sat in fear waiting for him to come back, too distracted to take in her surroundings.

Gaara returned a few minutes later to find her hunched over, staring at her toes. He sat down on the sofa beside her and placed a cup of tea on the low table in front of her.

"I was out of order. I'm sorry," he said. Sakura nodded and took the tea; sipping the warm liquid made her feel better. When Gaara apologised, she felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders which for some reason made her start crying again. As if he was unsure what to do, Gaara hesitantly put an arm round her shoulders. Sakura initially tensed up but soon relaxed in Gaara's arms. She rested her head against his shoulder and finally stopped crying.

"You should get some rest," Gaara said, "Have my bed." He lead Sakura through the door into his bedroom which was decorated in a similar style to the living area. She remembered the large white bed in the middle and a balcony door provided a view of the city. The bed looked comfortable and inviting and Sakura longed to rest after her tiring days.

"Where will you sleep?" she asked. Before Gaara could answer, there was a crackling from his pocket. He drew out a radio.

"Come in, Fox," he said into it. The crackling then became distinct words.

"I need backup Kazekage, fast," a man said through laboured breathing. Gaara ran his hand through his hair and began adjusting his outfit. He pocketed his radio and turned to Sakura:

"I have to go," he said. He pulled the material round his neck over his head, disguising his hair in a keffiyah, like they did in the desert. Before he left the room, he briefly touched two fingers to the tattoo on his shoulder. He picked up a mask with a leopard's face on it and with his mouth set into a hard line, he walked swiftly out of the apartment and into the night.

Alone in his apartment, Sakura would normally have jumped at the opportunity to snoop, but now she just wanted to sleep. To forget all about Gaara's anger and the dark shadow of the Akatsuki looming over her. More than ever, she wanted to be with Naruto. She slipped between the Egyptian cotton sheets on Gaara's king-size bed and prayed sleep would come soon.

Hours later, as the sky was beginning to tinge with dawn, Sakura awoke. She'd heard a disturbance and padded softly to the door. Gaara was standing in his living room, his breathing heavy. Even in the half-light she could see he was hurt. His shirt was ripped and he was bleeding. Bruises were beginning to form on his body. His leopard mask and gun were in his hand. Noticing her, he put them down.

"Go to sleep, Sakura," he said softly, "You shouldn't see me like this,"


End file.
